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noisilyscreechingsong · 10 months

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Eyes

Dp x Dc Crossover Writing Idea

“Red Robin!”

When he backtracked to find the owner of the voice he was a bit surprised to find a young boy, maybe eight years old if he had to guess, dressed in a red sweatshirt that dwarfed him and a pair of gym shorts that had seen better days.

Not many Gothamites called out to the vigilantes, a silent agreement to stay out of their way and not to look too closely. This kid however stared up at him with bright blue eyes unafraid of getting the Red Robin’s attention.

A fan?

Before he even opens his mouth, the kid gives him a small, hopeful smile, eyes shining with something that reminds him of himself when he was that age and following Batman and Robin with his camera around his tiny neck.

“I brought you a gift,” the boy say with nervous excitement. He enthusiastically swings off the backpack he had on to dig through the contents, taking his eyes off the vigilante and showing his unwavering trust that nothing bad would happen to him while Red Robin was here.

The boy pulls out what appears to be a jar wrapped in newspaper, the worn page ripping in some spots to show the clear glass underneath. Small hands present it like it’s Red Robin’s birthday (which it wasn’t).

He takes it cautiously, the kid hasn’t been hostile but this was still weird, and pulls it closer with enough space so if it’s a bomb it doesn’t blow up in his face.

It’s got weight to it and the slight sloshing tells him it’s filled with liquid. He carefully unwraps the ‘gift’, keeping his eye on the boy who stands waiting anxiously.

Tim almost drops the jar as soon as he sees what’s inside. Only his reflexes from over the years held on and his expression turned neutral.

A pair of eyes sit at the bottom of the jar. The orbs were crudely extracted, tissue floating around them like a mane of hair around a head.

He turns the jar to see the irises and… he knew these eyes. The slimy green is filmed with death, but he recognized these eyes from the number of times the owner locked them onto him, the cruel possessiveness they possessed when they gazed at him. Never again apparently.

Tim doesn’t speak for a while, not knowing what to say, but also thoughts racing too fast to form any proper sentences.

“Do you like it?” The small, nervous voice interrupts those thoughts.

What an innocent question on an equally innocent looking face.

“How did you get Ra’s Al Ghul’s eyes?”

The teasing chatter over the comms immediately hushes into shocked silence.

“I took them from his body, so you knew he was dead. I burned the rest so you don’t have to worry about him coming back again. The Pit there is gone anyway,” the child explains easily, not fazed in the slightest from the words he speaks.

“Grandfather is dead?” He hears Damian whisper over the comm.

So many other questions were flying through Tim’s head. He looks the kid over again.

Black hair and blue eyes. In any other situation the kid might have been a possible Wayne adoptee. He’s not a clone from what he can see though. Despite the coloring he doesn’t really look like any of them. Pale skin like Tim, but has freckles. The same kind of nose as Damian, but wide, round eyes. Jaw kind of like Jason, but his body shape is too narrow. Bright, almost icy blue eyes like Dick, but eyebrow shape is flatter. Lip shape like Bruce, but from the kid’s anxious lip biting he could see the faintest trace of dimples.

“Who are you?” He asks instead of the other million and one questions.

The boy blinks almost like he wasn’t expecting the question. He’s cheeks color pink with blush as he grins widely.

“I’m Danny!” He introduces cheerfully like he didn’t just hand a vigilante a jar of eyes.

“Hi, Danny,” Tim greets almost dumbly. “Want to tell me why you gave me this?”

Danny scoffs his shoe against the pavement in what appears to be embarrassment.

“Well, I know when you ask someone for something, it’s nice to give a gift or something. Like I did something nice for you so maybe you’ll do something nice for me?”

He takes a moment to absorb that child-like reasoning.

“So you want me to do something for you and you thought I would like Ra’s Al Ghul’s eyes in exchange?”

Danny studies him and fidgets with the large sweatshirt sleeve.

“I just thought you would like proof. Like the whole ‘bring me the heart of my enemy’ kind of thing. Do you not like it? I couldn’t just take a picture ‘cuz I didn’t have a camera with me, I know you like photography. I can do something else for you if it’s not enough,” he offers worriedly.

Tim freezes.

“How do you know I like photography?” He demands.

Danny tilts his head curiously.

“Because Tim Drake likes photography,” he says like it’s obvious, “and you’re Tim Drake.”

Well. This is less than ideal.

“Red Robin, take him back to the Cave,” Batman instructs over the comms.

Yeah, he was getting there.

“Do you know the other’s’ identities?”

Danny nods and hums affirmatively. Tim waits.

“Oh! Yea. Batman is Bruce Wayne. Robin is Damian Wayne. Red Hood is Jason Todd. Nightwing is Richard Grey-“

“Okay. That’s enough.”

Tim glances around the empty alley they were standing in, checking to make sure no stray people heard. Luckily they were truly alone.

“Danny, do you want to come back with me?” He asks, but it’s not really a question. The kid was coming back regardless, it would just be better if he went willingly.

Unsurprisingly, the kid lights up like a little sun at the offer.

“Really?” He nearly shouts in excitement.

“Yeah, kid. I parked my bike a few blocks from here. You ever rode a motorcycle before?”

Danny shakes his head, nearly bounding on his toes.

“Not in this lifetime.” And wasn’t that odd wording? “Are we gonna grapple there?”

“Think you can hold on?”

“Yeah!”

He kneels down so the boy can climb onto his back and lock his arms around his neck and hook his feet together around his torso. Danny is worryingly light as he stands.

The kid is the picture of an excited and overeager child as they carefully fly over rooftops and then drive back to the Cave. Even when they park inside the safety of the Batcave, Danny’s eyes are filled with child-like awe and wonder, so curious and chattering with questions and wild imagination. It would be cute, endearing even, if the jar of eyes wasn’t sitting heavily in his pocket.

Alfred came down not too long after their arrival with a tray of healthy snacks and some waters. Danny happily munches on the apple slices as he wanders around where Tim can see him.

The rumble of the Batmobile can be heard almost an hour later after Tim has to tell Danny not to touch the weapons for the fourth time. The kid’s attention is drawn to the sleek black vehicle as it parks by Tim’s bike. He trots over with wide eyes as the doors open and Robin exits, then Batman.

Unfortunately, Dick is in Bludhaven and Jason is visiting Roy and Lian this week. Cass and Steph were gone as well and Duke was sleeping. It was just the three of them and this kid with Alfred as the only buffer.

Danny stares openly, curious, as the duo makes their way over to the computer where Tim has claimed his sit.

Tim turns the jar that he set on the table so the eyes are facing them and slowly leans back again, suddenly very tired. Damian flexes his hands into fists tightly while Batman is very still.

“Hi,” Danny chirps like nothing is wrong, oblivious to the tension in the air.

Batman takes a measured breath. Robin glares down at the child, but remains silent for now.

“Who killed Ra’s Al Ghul?”

Danny blinks blankly.

“Nobody.”

“You’re saying he just dropped dead?” Damian sneered in sarcasm.

“Death took him,” the child says simply as if that explained everything.

“How?” The word is demanded and emphasized.

“Like Death takes everyone. His expiration was overdue.”

Bruce frowns and Damian almost snarls.

“I demand you start making sense!”

Danny glares back in offense.

“I’m being very clear! Maybe you should ask better questions!”

The twelve year old growls at the smaller child and Batman has to place a firm hand on his shoulder to keep him from attacking.

“Danny?” Batman questions after a tense moment.

The boy’s arms are crossed in irritation, but he blinks out of his glare to stare up at the man.

“Yea?”

“How do you know our identities?”

“Oh, memories.”

Danny looked like everything he said made sense and it was driving Tim up a wall.

“Memories,” Bruce repeats.

“Uh-huh,” Danny nods confidently. “From the Lazarus Pit.”

A jolt goes through Tim as he recalls what the boy said earlier about the Pit.

“Didn’t you say the Pit was gone?” He asks before Bruce could continue his line of questioning.

Danny turns with a bright smile as if he was proud Tim remembered.

“Yea! Well, gone from this world anyway.” Tim was concerned. “I took the memories from it before sending it back where it belongs.”

“Okay. How did you know how to ‘take the memories’ and send it back? Back where?”

“I was born from it. Duh. It went back to the Realms or I guess you’d call it the Afterlife,” Danny actually rolls his eyes as if they should already know this.

“Born from it?” Damian asks with a wavering voice, hidden well from the child but not from them. “Nothing has ever been born from the Pits.”

“That you know of.”

And wasn’t that the kicker.

“So, to clarify, you come from the Pits. You know who we are because you took the memories from said Pits. Death took Ra’s because his time was up. And you took the eyes from his corpse to give to me because you thought I would like it as a gift so I would do something for you.”

Danny positively beams.

“This is why you’re my favorite!”

Damian grinds his teeth harshly.

“What is it you want Red Robin to do for you?” Batman asks in strangled hesitation.

“Oh!” Danny perks up like he remembered and hops over to Tim with pleading hands. “Can you please make me an identity? You’re really good at all that stuff and I was hoping you could find me a family. Someone to adopt me. A nice family, with a bed and family dinners and a dog. I always wanted a dog.”

Tim has the sudden urge to scream.

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anothertimdrakestan · 10 months

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Batboys Toxic Traits Headcanons

because no one is perfect, i wanted to get a little dirty with it and imagine what the boys are like when they're a little... too obsessed with you.

tw for romanticizing possessive, obsessive, jealous, aggressive actions haha xoxo

Jason Todd

- scary dog privileges wherever you go with jace, but he is ALL bite with one and only one warning bark.

- when a hand that isn't his brushes your thigh in a club, fingers get broken. when a cat caller thinks his compliment just has to be said to you, he most likely won't be able to speak again for weeks. And god forbid any villain try to use you as bait for jason, they've all learned if they value their life to never touch you. He's all for justice not vengeance until anyone tries to mess with you, then those words always get mixed up in his head.

- sometimes you cant even complain about people, they end up getting randomly harassed by a certain someone until they just move town

- jason is adamant as long as he's alive there won't be a problem of yours he can't solve with a little violence

- your biggest problem is that he struggles to let you have guy friends, obviously the ones he knows especially fellow heroes are more than fine, but he's been known to burst blood vessels when he sees you close and person with men he's never met

- he's proud of it too: "let another man try and touch y/n, it's been a slow night for me." or "i just don't get why you need him as a friend when you have me, myself, and i"

Tim Drake

- tim gets... obsessive.

- he tends to fall hard but with you he brought the house down with him

- before you were officially his he had hacked every security camera in the city to have eyes on you at any given moment

- both for your safety and his own maniacal flirting strategy: you admire shoes but frown at the price tag? tim's buying you the matching bag to go with the shoes he bought the second you looked at them.

- before you knew how insanely in love with you he was, you truly thought he was a mind reader

- well he kind of was, seeing as he scrolled through your search history every night to know which talking points to bring up with you

- once you finally fell for him and set some stronger boundaries he still occasionally found himself double checking your location when you weren't by his side, or lazily purchasing every item on your pinterest boards, he just can't help but dote on you

Damian Wayne

- damian doesn't really get close to people, but as always you were his exception

- however, this means his list of people to hang out with is extremely short, and he saw no problem in wanting to be around you wherever you went whenever he could

- like a kind of tall, dark, and brooding puppy, he quietly followed you everywhere, and when you strictly told him he couldn't follow along, you always noticed a perched shadow just a few building away

- eventually you got used to rolling over to damian coolly watching you sleep or patiently waiting to pick you up from your classes/job, happy just to walk you to your car

- just like jason, damian had a brutal and heartless style of problem-solving when it came to anyone giving you trouble

- too often you found yourself standing in between his rage a massive mistake whether it was nearly assaulting a friend of yours who tried to ask you out or threatening to buy out your entire workplace when you didn't get the promotion you wanted

- forever cooling his rage was worth having his adoration though, and you were happy to have your overbearing shadow follow you throughout your days

Dick Grayson

- for such a bubbly leader, dick often struggled with communication

- always used to bearing his problems alone youd spent too many nights tracking down your own boyfriend only to beg him to tell you what's wrong

- he never understood that you didn't always want to solve his problems, but hold his sadness or hurt with him

- it was the worst when he was upset with you, whether it was jealously or insecurity that crept into his mind

- he'd take off in a rush hoping you wouldn't notice but you always did, either hunting him down or simply waiting with open arms for him to come home

- it would take years to teach your traveling-circus-raised boyfriend that you weren't going anywhere, ever.

- but, this made for many heartfelt nights where he held you and promised you the world, as if you'd opened him up in a way no one else could, pulling forward the most magical and loving side of your sweet boy

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luxaofhesperides · 3 months

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Can I please have meet cute/weird with mistaken villain! Danny (but really just a engineer and or chem student) and the one being put on investigation cause Danny is a day villain(not really)! Duke

Technically, Danny Fenton is innocent. Technically.

Duke wants to give him the benefit of the doubt, especially since he’s having so much trouble finding solid evidence that Danny is stealing from a wide variety of people, but he’s been burned before by trying to see people as better than they were. It doesn’t change the fact that Oracle’s cameras keep spotting Danny right before a building on the street is broken into and something stolen. He’s always just walking down the sidewalk; no one has spotted him entering or exiting a building, but he’s around far too often to be unconnected to these burglaries.

It doesn’t help that strange, petty crimes have been on the rise since Danny first arrived in Gotham.

So.

Danny Fenton is technically innocent.

Duke is trying to prove that he’s not.

Maybe I’m looking too closely, he thinks, going over Danny’s sparse file in the Hatch. Maybe Danny’s only one person in a bigger operation.

He could just be the lookout, the runner, the information gatherer who marks which buildings to hit. He may even be the scapegoat, the sacrificial lamb; Danny has no support in Gotham, no family, no job. There would be no one to help him if he got arrested or injured in a fight. He’s a freshman college student from Illinois who should be unprepared for life in Gotham but is somehow managing to survive like a native.

There’s a lot about Danny that doesn’t add up.

Duke has seen plenty of different people since he first went out as the Signal. He’s tried to be kind and give people the benefit of the doubt, but it leads to his loved ones being put in danger. Some people are truly evil, some working on a malicious agenda, some are misguided in their beliefs, and some are desperate people who see no other way to move forward.

He’s not sure yet which on Danny is, but he’s hoping Danny is just desperate and needs a little help to get out of a life of crime.

Which leads to the next problem: Duke has no idea what Danny is steal, or why. He hits both rich and poor folks, civilians and members of the mob, and once, notably, stole something right out of Cobblepot’s office. Allegedly, at least, since no one saw him enter or exit the office, not even the security cameras.

But added to the whispers going around about a new group in Gotham snatching people up from the streets, and some strange green substances found in warehouses often raided by police for the frequent drug labs that pop up in them…

It doesn’t look good for Danny. Especially when a few of the items he stole were found where people either vanished or where that green substance has been found.

A week of analysis in the Batcave and they still don’t know what it is.

Both Damian and Jason suspected Lazarus water, but the composition was completely different. By the look of the molecular structure, it shouldn’t have been in a liquid form at all.

All these findings lead back to one person who may have answers: Danny Fenton.

According to Tim, who’s already broken into Danny’s dorm room and checked over all the labs he has classes in, Danny has some concerning items in his possession. Various inventions and little metal knick-knacks put together by a practiced hand. He was also the one to find all the information that went into Danny’s file when it was first being made: social media posts, school report cards, news articles about his parents… everything.

And then he had an emergency mission to take with the Titans that swept him out of Gotham leaving Duke to tackle this investigation on his own.

He doesn’t have Tim’s natural skill in stalking and invading privacy. He hates breaking into people’s spaces and following them around, but needs must and he has to force himself to work through the discomfort.

It’s a good thing he did, too. Danny’s leaving his dorm after his last afternoon class, hood up to hide his face and something held in the front pocket of his hoodie. He ducks around people on the sidewalk easily, almost as if he’s gliding through the crowd instead of walking.

Duke follows from above, bending the light around him to hide him from sight.

He walks for some time, weaving through alleys and streets as if he’s been in Gotham his whole life, leaving behind the university campus to head towards Otisberg. There’s something strange about the way Danny walks, as if he’s moving around people who aren’t there, guided by something Duke can’t hear. Even using his meta abilities doesn’t do much beyond show him where Danny’s going to be in the next few seconds.

He continues to follow Danny on the rooftops, walking along the edge to keep him in sight.

Then Danny stops behind an apartment building and tilts his head back to look up at it. He tilts his head to the side, then nods and looks around the empty alley. Duke crouches down, keeping his eyes on Danny in the hopes of catching him in the act—

Danny disappears.

Duke curses under his breath and jumps down from the roof, putting more strength into his abilities as soon as his feet touch the ground.

The space where Danny was has a faint outline, oddly enough. He’s never seen that before. From it is a semi-transparent trail, smoke-like and a pale green leading into the building. It goes straight into a wall, as if Danny walked through it.

He can’t go in and search the entire apartment, but he can grapple up and take a look into the hallways to see where Danny’s heading. If he was looking up, then that’s where he should be heading.

It doesn’t take any effort to scale the building. There are ledges and windowsills and plenty of handholds for him to propel himself off of, and paired with his powers, Duke is able to find the correct floor in just under two minutes.

The green smoke slowly dances through the air of the ninth floor, on the east side of the building. If he’s been counting the rooms correctly, then the target of tonight’s burglary has to be apartment 924.

The curtains are drawn on the window he makes his way over to, and his abilities don’t show him anything helpful for the immediate future. He hates going in blind, especially to a civilian’s home, but capturing Danny takes priority. Duke picks the lock and slides the window up slowly, making sure it stays quiet, then slips into an empty bedroom.

He makes his way out into the hallway on silent feet, keeping a wary eye on the thin smoke strands of green, curling along the walls. The rest of the apartment is empty as well, pale sunlight slanting across the floor through the blinds.

Everything is still and silent. Danny’s nowhere to be found.

Did he miss Danny leaving, somehow? Was this a misdirect to get him out of the way while Danny stole from another location? Did he know Duke was following him?

But no, his ears pick up on the faint sound of clothes rustling.

Cautiously, Duke turns towards the front door, where the door to the coat closet is open. He focuses on what’s going to happen in the next twenty seconds and sees Danny panic, then disappear from sight again, but a transparent outline of his body is visible just enough to show him where he runs to. Best not to spook him; Duke pulls at the light around him and bends it to hide him from sight.

Then he moves along the wall, getting around the open door without bumping into anyone or anything.

A figure in front of the coats, shoving them to the side roughly, flickers in and out of view, almost like a reflection in water, distorted by ripples on the surface.

Danny pops back into visibility suddenly, scowling at the coats. “Are you sure it’s in here?” he asks the empty air.

There is no answer, but Danny acts like there is. He rolls his eyes and says, “It’s a favor. That I’m doing for you. I can literally stop right now and you wouldn’t be able to stop me.” He shoves aside another heavy winter coat, then sighs. “Why don’t you look for it, and then tell me where it is.”

He steps back and bumps into Duke.

Danny whirls around, eyes wide, and blast of green light has Duke crashing back into the wall, trying to blink spots out of his eyes.

“Wait!” he yells, grabbing for Danny before he can run off. “I just wanna talk!”

“Standing right behind me like a serial killer does not make you look like someone who wants to talk!” Danny yells back, slipping through his hands like mist.

“I just have a few questions!”

“Well, I have a question: why?!”

“Will you hold still, we’re being too loud!”

Danny escapes to the other side of the apartment, next to a window looking fully prepared to fling himself out of it. But he does stop yelling, so Duke is counting it as a success.

“Why is the Signal coming after me?” Danny asks, glaring at him suspiciously.

“Dude,” Duke says, “You’ve been seen outside of every single building that’s had a burglary since you first arrived in Gotham. All the Bats are after you, they just sent me because I’m the only one active during the day.”

“All the Bats?” Danny repeats, losing what little color he had in his face.

He looks legitimately scared, pale enough to be concerning, and Duke drops his guard and tries to relax the tension in the apartment. “I’m not gonna turn you into the cops or anything. I just had questions and you seem like the most likely person to have answers. That’s it.”

Danny still looks wary, ready to run at a moment’s notice, but he doesn’t leave when Duke approached casually, leaning his weight against the couch.

“So,” he begins, “What’s the deal with all the thievery? It’s rarely something super rare or expensive.”

There’s a long few minutes where Danny doesn’t answer, looking anywhere but at Duke. Then he twitches a bit and glares off to the side, and says, “I taking items that are contaminated with ectoplasm to help ghosts move through the veil and leave Gotham.”

That tells him nothing! That just gives Duke more questions! But at least it’s an answer, the first one any of them have got.

“I think you’re gonna have to explain a little more.”

“Ghosts are real, alright?”

“Yes.”

Danny stops. Squints at him. “What do you mean, ‘yes’?”

“Ghosts are real,” Duke repeats, “There are a few who help heroes or are heroes themselves, but that’s more on the magic side of things so I’m not super familiar with it.”

“Magic,” Danny says slowly. “Sure, alright. Um. Yes, ghosts are real. And there are a ton in Gotham who need help moving on, but they’re too weak to get past the veil. Something about Gotham has made the veil super strong, so they need a little boost to get through. Additional ectoplasm bonded helps with that.”

“And that’s why you’re stealing random things?”

“The ghosts I help can kind of sense ectoplasm-infused things, but they need me to grab them since they can’t hold anything without a physical body.”

Duke nods slowly. “Okay, that’s starting to answer some things. We have found those objects in the last places missing people were seen. Any idea what’s going on with that?”

“Yeah, those people were already dead.”

The way Danny says the most concerning answers as if they’re nothing is really throwing Duke off his game. He was expecting to be calm and serious to keep Danny from freaking out too much and look like a legitimate hero. But as soon as Danny started talking, all his nerves fell away and Duke is left grasping for composure.

“They were…”

“They were ghosts, yeah. And they needed to get through the veil. But they were also able to possess their own bodies and didn’t realize they were dead until I had to break the news to them, which is why it looks like living people just up and disappeared.”

“Okay… What about the green stuff we’ve been finding?”

“Ectoplasm.” Danny holds up a hand and a neon green light surrounds it. Except it looks more solid than light, as if it can be touched, and it moves on its own like fire around Danny’s fingers. “It’s what ghosts are made of.”

Oh. If Danny has ectoplasm, does that mean…

“Are you dead?” Duke asks, heart dropping.

Instead of looking upset about the question, or even disturbed by it, Danny just shrugs and waves his hand back and forth. “A little.”

“Okay, so let me get this straight,” Duke says, trying to resist the urge to rub his temples. It’s a habit he didn’t mean to pick up from Batman, and it would just look silly with his helmet in the way. “You’re just doing all this to help ghosts?”

“Yeah. Basically. They asked for help man, of course I was going to help them.”

Danny’s a good person. He’s just a good person to ghosts. But this is good news either way, and he can let the others know that Danny isn’t the next Catwoman and is entirely unconnected from any drug production. Everything that made him look like a criminal is just the fault of ghosts.

“Speaking of,” Danny continues, “Looks like they found what they need, so I’m going to grab that real quick.” He pushes off of the wall and heads for the closet again, moving past Duke without any fear. Duke follows, keeping a few feet of distance between them so Danny doesn’t feel trapped, and watches as he shoves aside the coats again and pulls a shoebox out of the depths of the closet. From it, he takes a single intricate lace headband and holds it up.

It looks normal, if a little old, but when Danny sends ectoplasm through it, the lace lights up and holds the glow.

He pulls some strange contraption out of his pocket and holds it up to the headband. It makes a few beeps, then Danny mutters, “7.4 millisieverts. That’s enough to get you through the veil.”

Another concern Duke can let go of: Danny’s not creating weapons like his parents have, he’s just measuring ectoplasm through his own inventions.

Maybe he could talk to Bruce or Tim about getting Danny an internship at the R&D lab in Wayne Enterprises? That way they could keep a closer eye on him while seeing what he can create in some of the best laboratories in the country.

Well, it might take having them meet Danny before they trust him enough for that, but Duke is sure he can make it happen.

“I better go see this through, then,” Danny says, shoving the contraption back into his hoodie pocket. He gives Duke a small awkward wave, then pops out of visibility. “I’ll see you around, I guess?” he disembodied voice hedges, and Duke smiles.

“I’m sure I’ll be able to find you again.”

“Cool. I gonna go now!”

He doesn’t see any sign that Danny’s left, but he gets a feeling that he’s alone now, the apartment suddenly emptier than it was before.

As strange and concerning as Danny and all his bizarre actions were, Duke is glad he was able to finally talk to him and get some answers. Knowing how Gotham pulls people him in, it’s only a matter of time before the other Bats are exposed to Danny’s kind of strange. He’s already looking forward to it.

For now, though, he has a file to update in the Hatch; POTENTIAL THREAT will be removed and replaced with GHOST HELPER.

If anyone goes snooping into his files and gets confused, then that’s their problem. Duke’s explained enough. And Danny can take care of the rest, once they go through the effort of tracking him down. Duke's done his part, he's ready for the rest of them to step up to his level.

He can’t wait to see what other kind of trouble Danny can get it into.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #prompt fill #my writing #could not do a meet cute/weird in this prompt so i made it a meet disaster lol #heres danny trying to focus on his education!! and then ghosts start popping up asking for help bc gotham wont let them leave #so danny has to make a few contraptions to be able to help them (mostly ecto tracking/measuring/containing) and it looks SOOO sus #the ghosts also have a weak ecto sense which is how they find him bc hes FULL of ecto #and that means hes robbing houses during the day/late evening bc the night is for homework and stress #duke is just... trying his best lol.#sorry if the last part of this is rushed or confusing i am slightly sick and can Not focus #anyways i hope u enjoy!!#thanks for the prompt!!

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incorrectbatfam · 1 year

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What would the batfam say if they met their younger self?

Dick: Put on some pants

Jason: Don't go to Ethiopia and talk to that camera kid next door

Tim: Here's a list of everyone you can trust. You're in good company, as long as you let them love you

Damian: You don't want to inherit this world. Take the skills you must and run as far as you can

Duke: Invest in flashlight gloves

Cullen: Destiel is canon in the Spanish dub

Stephanie: Pretend you're possessed. It'll be funny I swear

Cassandra: Here is a book. Hide it and use it well

Barbara: The Riddler is gonna drop a green USB. It's got nothing to do with his plans, just pictures of him in his underwear that you can use as blackmail

Harper: Don't work in retail

Carrie: If you're gonna eat paper, pick something other than your homework

Kate: We're gay. It sounds scary, but things are gonna get easier

Alfred: Get Master Bruce another hobby

Selina: Harley and Ivy ate the pie you were saving

Bruce: Take notes from Alfred. You'll need them as a parent

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snakeredbirdbatkatana · 17 days

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The Son of Hell

Tim has a secret well he has a lot of secrets if he's being brutally honest but one that no matter what can't ever slip.

When Tim was little he made a friend he can't really remember how but one day she was just there. Cooking, cleaning, helping with homework. When he started stalking the bats she was always there in the corner of his eye. He had at first thought maybe he lost his mind but when someone tried to steal his camera she came grabbing the guy he still isn't sure exactly what she did but he was never attacked again.

Any questions he has she could always answer she confirmed Batman's identity read him stories when he was little she was what he imagined a Mother was.

Part of the reason he loves Cass so much is she reminds him of her.

When he had asked her name she had smiled looking at him with such love, before kissing his scalp.

"You can call me Lily"

Even now after a lot of research and some weird questions to Constantine he has never figured out what exactly she is he knows that it's not human.

Every step of his life she has been there guarding, he had asked her never to interfere with Robin work scared that Batman would find out and somehow take her away.

He had never see her so angry than after Titans Tower fussing and healing him enough so there would be no perment damage. Yet he once again asked for her not to fix it or else Bruce would know.

She smirked before gently cradling his face.

"I do not fear that silly bat but anything for you, My Imp."

When he faced down Ra's looking for Bruce before he could accept the offer she was there staring him down.

"You will leave Tim alone don't force my hand, do I make myself clear."

Ra's was terrified he had looked at Tim as if seeing him in a new light.

"Of course I had not been aware of the situation I meant no disrespect I will happily help Timothy."

It went smoothly only once Bruce was safely back in Gotham did Tim risk asking.

"Do you know what she is?"

Ra's stared straight at the wall clearly lost in some such memory from long before him, hesitation not something you would expect from the Demon's head.

"Older than I my dear, powerful, deadly you have no idea how interesting it is that a being like that is yours. You are untouchable my detective."

He should have been terrified but they had never been anything but kind.

Darkseid is a threat as every Hero, Vigilante, and Villain agrees they all stand before the godlike being.

He sees his family, his friend's even the likes of Ra's and Deathstroke all waiting to fight.

He knows they are backed against a wall that all of them might die.

He doesn't want to risk losing the one person who has always loved him but he looks straight at Ra's and all he does is nod.

He turns to Bruce his father before he steps forward making eye contact with a being who will always haunt his nightmares.

"Who are you to step to me boy?"

He's terrified but he feels Lily weaving whatever power it is that she possesses around him.

"I'm nobody, but she isn't. Lily now!"

Before he could blink the entire battlefield erupts in light a figure standing tall with multiple sets of giant white wings wearing a a suit that looks darker than night. A slight red tint to their skin.

Darkseid starts to step back terrified his army looking confused on why there leader is shaking.

Tim steps closer to the being they feel so safe he wants to bury himself in their wings.

"Lily is that you?"

The bring turns a kind smile slightly different then the one he has seen for years.

"Oh no sorry sweetheart that happens to be my dear wife my name is Lucifer."

#tim drake #batfamily #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #bruce wayne #ra's al ghul #bamf tim drake #batfam #lucifer morningstar #Lilith #bamf batfamily

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leathermouthproxies · 1 year

Text

Proxy boys with afab sub reader smut headcanons

This was on Ao3 first so follow me there to keep up with my full length fics. Anyways here's my headcanons from hardest to softest doms.

Masky

Names he likes being called: Sir. Pretty much insists on it in bed

Names he likes to call reader: pet, kitten or puppy, whore, doll, little girl

Kinks: Brat Taming, bondage, weapon play, pet play, likes seeing you wearing tail plugs, so anal, CNC, size kink, predator and prey play, squirting, choking, breeding, huge sadist, impact play, will smack you if you're ok with it, having you hump his leg or boot

Tits or ass: Ass Fav position: mating press, your knees behind your head

Giving or receiving head: RECEIVING

He loves being completely in control, overstimulating you, humiliating you (he loves seeing you all flustered), degrading you, forcing you to squirt over and over, just completely using and destroying you, also loves seeing you wear things that claim you as his, like a collar or a necklace with his name on it. Likes playing little games with you, tag, hide and go seek, grabbing you from behind when you don't know he's there, gets a rise out of you being scared.

“Little whore loves getting fucked stupid huh?” “Aww did stupid forget how to talk? Come on kitten you've only cum 3 times I know you can give me some more.” "You know how happy Tim will be when I breed our baby into you? He loves seeing my bimbo be his domestic little wife." "I bet the neighbors know my name"

This man is literally a demon possessing Tim like how can he GO FOR SO LONG

Tim usually fronts for after-care. If Masky ever stops on his own his aftercare consists of him bringing you water, pulling you up on his chest, and praising you, which makes you flustered, which makes him hard, which then usually leads to round 2. Or 3. Or 4. Or until Tim fronts and sees you as a puddle of drool and tears and raspy moans under him.

Brian

Daddy. HUGE daddy dom

Princess, darling, baby girl, pretty, little girl

dd/lg, recording (exhibitionism), will ask for pictures or videos of you masturbating if he's out of the house for more than like. An hour. Has definitely asked Tim or Masky to record them fucking you for him to watch, so voyeurism, squirting but like not in an AGGRESSIVE way like Masky, praising, marking, bondage, having you grind on his leg or knee, mirrors, freak ass hoe for sure has a mirror across from and above the bed, lil bit of choking but again not as hard as Masky does it, creampies (seriously these guys love to cum inside you better get yourself an iud), edging

Tits

Standing (mans takes advantage of the operator strength), missionary, really anywhere that's not in a bed, kitchen counter, couch, car, against a tree in the forest, just in any position that he can pop a titty in his mouth or leave a hickey on your neck.

Honestly its 50/50 with oral, thinks you're adorable when he eats you out but also loves when you gag on his cock

Loves being completely in control but not in a forceful way like Masky, more in a “I want to see you melt under me” kind of way. Honestly he's so good at making you melt that you're not as bratty with him as you are with Masky. Still kind of bratty tho. While Masky likes forced orgasms, Brian loves edging you until you're begging and babbling. LOVES to praise you, loves when you're good for him, doesn't like to punish you but will turn into a hard dom if you get bratty or cum without permission.

“Such a pretty baby, gunna milk daddy's cock dry princess?” "Oh, were you close? I'm sorry baby girl, let's try that again." "Wave to the camera darlin', you know the other boys love when you look 'em in the eye." "Are you cum drunk already angel? That's okay, just let your daddy take care of you. You're so cute when you're all fucked out like this" "daddy's little princess"

Masky can fuck for hours but Brian loooves foreplay, he can toy with you for hours

Hoodie's the king of aftercare but Brian’s a close runner up

Will clean you up or carry and hold you in the shower if you want, make you go pee, bring you water or tea, wrap you both in a blanket, make sure he didn't cross any lines, be super soft with you, kiss kiss kiss kiss kISS

Toby

Listen to me

Hear me out HEAR ME OUT

I know we all think toby is a sub

And YES he looks like he gets pegged.

But I am telling you. I AM TELLLINNNG YOU.

This is not the case.

My boy is UN FUCKING HINGED

Cool with anything you want to call him, but his favorite is when you scream his name

Toby canonically comes from German ancestry and idk if the creator went further into that but I like to think his mom and dad are German immigrants, and toby has been to Germany to visit family so he can speak fluent German.

Bro be babblin’ shit out. Engel, babe, schätzchen, slut, sexy, schnucki, cum dump, mein angebetete, bunny, schatz, sweetheart, mieze, I mean he has tourettes so he really just calls you whatever comes to mind, accidentally called you manic pixie dream girl unironically one time and Tim still makes fun of him for it

Marking, biting, being bit, blood play, honestly probably period sex, he's a freak man fr, weapon play for sure, face shots, he would cover your entire body in his cum if he could cum that much, loves experimenting, having power over you, manhandling, VERY rough in bed, usually just from being over excited and not knowing what hurts people

Definitely accidentally blurted out that he would eat you if he could one time Was hot in the moment but he had some explaining to do during after care

We love our little cannibal don't we folks

Tits guy but loves shoving your face into the mattress and pulling your ass up into him, shower sex, again willing to try any position once

Loves the taste of you and will eat it like a demon but HUGE fan of getting some sloppy top. And I mean SLOPPY. He loves when you drool and gag

This guy just loves sex. Loves seeing you squirm under him, loves using you like his sex doll, probably calls you that too. Mans gets excited and VOCAL.

Toby also doesn't stutter in the original story but you know what? Eat my ass we have all headcanoned a stutter. It just lessens when he's confident- ie: making you his bitch. Although he still has tourettes and apparently disorganized speech as a symptom of his schizophrenia.

“Ich-ich möchte d-d-den, um, rest mein-n-nes lebensss mit dir vvver–rbringen” "hey y/n- pretty baby gonna make you scream tonight- hav-ve you sssseen my sch-ch-etch book“ "Ich w-w-w-erde dich für immmmer und ewig lieb-ben.” “JESUS-god-FUCK youre sssexy” “toby its 9 in the morning.” “Du siehst verboten gu-gut aus” "whore whorrre wh-h-hore yes fuck perfect whore aren't you?" "Your blood tastes so good." “Y-yeah, du liebst diesen schwanz in dir, nicht wahr hure?”

Sorry it's all German I just feel like he gets so in the moment that he kind of goes out of body and doesn't even realize what he's saying

His after care is kissing you all over your entire face and then conking the fuck out on your tits. Will more than likely wake up hard and ready again. If he doesn't pass out after the kisses he will open ubereats and ask what you want LOL

Hoodie

Ok Hoodie and Tim are on the same level of dom-ness but hoodie is more protective so he goes first

One thing he and Brian have in common: daddy. Hoodie also likes sir

Hoodie is usually non verbal but will talk sometimes when he's feeling particularly passionate, usually in a very monotone and even tone

When he does talk he calls you sickly sweet names

My love, precious, perfect

Collars, long makeout seshes, stomach bulging/ size kink. Tummy shots. Tummy. Shots. Loves putting you in pretty dresses OR his hoodie. He doesn't really have a lot of kinks, he just loves making love to you for hours. That's right you're not getting fucked when you're with him you're getting made LOVE to

.Feet. LMFAOOOOO

Usually tried to keep it on the downlow but one time while he was fucking he had your feet on his shoulders and. Suddenly he had a toe in his mouth before he could stop himself

Toby heard about it and now one of his tics is "foot boy" One time the guys were staking out a target in a mall when Toby looked at Brian and instantly yelled "FOOT BOY FOOT BOY". Tim laughed so hard he cried. They had to leave.

Brian hates Hoodie so much.

Anyways

Dude is EXTREMELY gentle with you, seriously treats you like you're made of glass. Also if this were a cartoon his eyes would turn into hearts every time he looked at you

He usually likes when you're on top, sitting on his lap while he told you close

But he will also HAPPILY oblige with anything you ask forAs long as you feel good that's all he wants

This guy

This fucking guy

Will eat.

For an eternity if you let him.

I am serious sometimes he eats until you safeword, like you RARELY have to safeword with any of the boys and the only time you ever had to with Hoodie is when he eats you out to the point where you literally feel like you're going to pass away. It’s kind of rare for him to not listen to your “ok I can't take it anymore”’s but sometimes he just can't get a hold of himself, it's like he goes out of body. Will end everything and go full aftercare mode for the safe word though.

He just loves to love you, he's the most protective, will carry you anytime you let him, always wants to be touching you, will do anything to make you happy even if it's not necessarily a good idea

If he witnesses someone be mean to you he WILL kill them of you don't explicitly tell him not to

Masky has to wait for Brian to front or send Hoodie out of the house to fuck you

This rule was made because one time Hoodie fronted while Masky was doing some impact play and Hoodie heard you scream. Hoodie almost choked Masky to death. It was a whole thing. It also turned into a 3 way. Anyways.

Point is you ask for the moon he'll bring you the whole solar system Thinks your whimpers are the cutest shit in the entire world, LOVES your soft little quiet moans

Again, really doesn't talk much, keeps things short and simple if he really has to speak

You think the longest sentence you've heard Hoodie say is when you asked if he could get some snacks while he was at the grocery store and while putting his shoes on he deadpan replied "I would eat a lightbulb if you asked me to." You took that as a yes.

But sometimes he says little worships and sweet nothings during sex

Now HOODIEHE is the king of aftercare

Goes super soft, again acts like you're made of glass, will gently lay you back down on the pillows, clean you off or carry you into the shower, again make sure you pee (ladies always take a girl-piss after sex), get you ice if you have bruises (usually from the other guys) hold you close and cover you both with the blankets, one of the rare times he talks is to ask you what you need from him, and again he will give you ANYTHING

He's so girl coded

Tim

Tim and hoodie have a lot in common actually

Again, daddy

I'm sorry they're all daddy af

Bear, teddy bear, handsome

Honey, doll, baby, darlin’

Just loves sweet lazy sex, but also not really because he loves spanking LOL

Not really a kink but him and hoodie love seeing you in pretty little dresses and skirts, tights or knee high socks, loves pulling your skirt up and plowing you Loves seeing you do lil domestic things, LOVES fucking to music, worships your body, literally thinks you have the most perfect body, gagging, spanking, loves when you dress up for him, lingerie and the occasional costume, definitely likes when you have a toy in you while you go about your day, either plug or vibrator, back shots

Honestly probably goes for anal when him and Brian dp you, so definitely is into you wearing plugs

Thighs and ass

Bro looooves your thighs

Asks you to smother him with them like once a day

69ing, getting his face sat on, fucking while you guys are on your side, again soft and lazy

He can drill you into the mattress if asked but prefers it soft

Mans EATS.

Remember how I said he loves thighs and ass?

This is exactly why he wants you to sit on it face Also why he likes 69ing, you're usually focusing on him while you're sucking his fat ass cock so you don't notice when you accidently settle to much and put all of your weight on his face which is EXACTLY his plan

He has had to tap out a couple times from almost suffocating

Anyways

Tim is obsessed with your body, wants it against him all of the time.

Cuddle. Fucking. MONSTER.

Toby and Hoodie are clingy 24/7 but Tim really values alone time with you and takes full advantage by being all over you. He also takes the protective roll when Hoodie's not around. He loves his little wife (doesn't matter if you're not married you're his little wife)

Also I don't think Tim is really as shy as a lot of people make him out to be

"Come sit that pretty ass on my cock, doll" "so soft and warm up against me baby" “Are you wearing all this just for me? Come give me a twirl, hun’” “please PLEASE just one chance I am on my knees BEGGING” “TIM I DON'T CARE IF YOU'LL GET HEALED I'M NOT BREAKING YOUR NECK WITH MY ASS”

Like I said Tim usually fronts mid fuck (well, is it mid fuck if you've been going for like 3 hours?) for Masky and kind of panics when he sees you SO fucked out It's kind of hot but he knows your ass is dehydrated

"Oh fuck, you good??"

Definitely felt really guilty the first time he saw the state Masky put you in before you assured him you fully were into it

Will clean you, probably untie you, get you ice and painkillers, and then make sure Masky didn't cross any lines

Masky is actually really good with consent, making sure things are okay before trying them for the first time, making sure you remember your safe word, but Tim still doesn't trust him

But with Tim's soft sweet sex aftercare usually isn't needed He just gives you sweet kisses and then asks if you're hungry <3

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wolfjackle-creates · 8 months

Note

How about Tim Drake and Danny Fenton with 7 and/ 54!

7. Trapped in a room/closet/elevator

54. Kidnapping

Well, doesn't that just give ideas. I'm going with Tim POV on this one.

Word Count: 1.6k

-----

Tim came back to awareness with the feeling of ropes cutting into his wrists and ankles and the absence of a mask on his face. He was tied to a very uncomfortable chair.

His head hurt, but more like a hangover than physical trauma so he must've been drugged. Where had he been?

The museum, that's right. He'd been at the museum. There'd been a class of out-of-state high school students visiting and they were acting strange. Bruce sent him to check up on them, make sure they were who they'd said they were.

Without moving, he mentally checked his body. Nothing to be alarmed by. Maybe a new bruise or two and his wrists and ankles would be sore. He was wearing his shirt and pants, but his shoes and socks had been removed along with any of his possessions.

So he let himself focus on the rest of the room. An arrhythmic tapping sound was coming from just a few feet away. But his head was still foggy from whatever he'd been drugged with and he couldn't figure out what it was.

He couldn't hear anything else.

So he let himself moan slightly and shifted his weight as if he was only just waking up. He opened his eyes slightly and didn't bother hiding the wince of pain at the light from the bare bulb that hung from the ceiling.

"Hey, cool! You're awake!" exclaimed someone. They sounded young.

Tim looked over and saw a boy about his own age also tied to a chair. The tapping noise had been him rocking back and forth on his toes. The room they were in was small, more of a closet really. About five feet by five feet and shelving had clearly only been removed recently. The door had no window. No way to know how long he'd been out.

"Where are we?" asked Tim. "What happened?" Tim narrowed his eyes against the light and looked closer. The kid looked familiar, where had he seen him?

"You okay?" the kid asked.

"Killer headache. Better than a concussion, I guess, but these drugs, man. Did they not get you with them?" And then he placed the kid, he'd been part of the group he'd been following.

The boy shrugged. "Things like that usually wear off for me pretty quickly. I'm Tim. Who're you? This your first kidnapping?"

"I— What? I'm Tim."

"Huh, cool. We have the same name. They kidnapped us because my dad's Bruce Wayne and they want ransom. When they found two boys of a similar age with black hair and blue eyes in the museum, they took us both rather than waste time figuring out who was who."

And suddenly it made sense what this kid was doing. He was trying to trick them into thinking he was Tim. Perhaps so Tim could escape or just to sow confusion. Tim shook his head and winced when that just caused throbbing pain. "What are you talking about? I'm Tim Drake, adopted son of Bruce Wayne."

"Dude, why are you lying? We both know I'm Tim."

"You're the liar," he shot back. He couldn't let a civilian take the fall for him.

But before their argument could continue to cycle, the door banged open, making the pounding in Tim's head worse. Two men stood there: one holding a gun, the other a phone. Most likely he was videotaping them. Both of them wore more guns and knives openly.

"Look like Sleeping Beauty's finally awake," sneered the one holding the phone.

Tim pretended to be afraid as was protocol for civilian kidnappings. "Who are you? What do you want?"

His companion, however, did not seem to get the memo. "You'd better let us go right now or you will regret it."

"Looks like we've got a feisty one on our hands, eh?" asked Gun-kidnapper.

"Smile at the camera, boys, we'll be sending this to Daddy Wayne. Better pray he pays up. Otherwise worse'll happen."

"Worse than what?" demanded his companion. "I've been in detentions worse'n this."

"Shut up!" hissed Tim.

"You better listen to your pal, boy, because you just volunteered for our first demonstration," said Phone-kidnapper. "Hear that, Brucie? We're gonna shoot your boy, or maybe not your boy. And you'll pay us the demanded ransom if you don't want us to do it again. Every half hour you delay, we'll put another bullet in one of these boys."

Without delay, Gun-kidnapper raised his weapon and shot. But he missed as Tim's companion managed to get enough leverage to knock his chair over.

Not that it was enough to stop the kidnapper who simply shot again. And this time he didn't miss. Tim watched as blood quickly began dripping from the boy's thigh onto the floor. At least his position on the floor meant it was elevated.

The two kidnappers laughed before leaving.

"Shit, are you okay? Why'd you do that?" Tim pulled at his bonds. The other boy needed medical attention ASAP. Worth using some of his Robin Training to help out the brave, idiotic kid.

The kid chuckled through clenched teeth. "I've had worse, it's fine."

"Worse? That's a gunshot wound!"

"And last Tuesday, I was hit by a spear and lasers, bit by a vulture, and punched through a wall over the span of, like, four hours."

That gave Tim pause. If that was true, and he seemed oddly unconcerned about a bullet wound for it not to be, he was clearly not a normal teen. "Who are you?"

The boy grinned. "I told you, I'm Tim Drake! Now, do you trust me?"

"Trust you to do what?" Tim had almost gotten one hand free.

"We're getting out of here, Timbuk-two."

Before Tim could blink, the kid did...something...and all his bonds fell away. Then he lunged at Tim, pushing him out of the chair and into the wall. They came through into what looked like an average Gotham warehouse.

Tim bit his tongue as they continued flying through the wall and ended up outside. It was still daytime, but dusk was getting close.

"What the hell?" whispered Tim. "You're a meta?"

"Not exactly, but close enough. I'm Danny. I can keep us invisible and intangible, but I can't block sound. So only speak when needed. Want to figure out who these guys are or leave?"

"You need to get medical attention. Much as I want to know who these guys are, we're leaving."

"I'm fine! I've had worse."

Tim looked down from where they were floating and noted the blood dripping to the ground. "Dude, you're bleeding. We're leaving."

That seemed to knock Danny out of it. "Oops. Suppose you're right. Where should we go?"

"There's a doctor in crime alley who treats everyone. She won't talk about your meta status and she'll be able to contact Bruce for me to let him know we're out."

Danny hesitated a moment before asking, "Can you promise she won't talk? Because there're people who'd like nothing more than to strap me down and cut me open to figure out how I work."

"Fly a few buildings over and land on a roof so I can get a tourniquet on your leg. Are those the same people who hurt you last Tuesday?"

Danny did as directed. "Believe it or not, no. That guy wants me to be his son."

Once the landed, Danny let him go. "What the fuck?" Tim patted himself down hoping that the kidnappers had left him with anything useful only to sigh. He'd have to make do with his shirt.

"I know. He's a total fruitloop. Nah, it's the government that wants to vivisect me. And a few others, but I think they'd stop once they realized who I am." Danny looked him up and down. "But it looks like you might have a story or two to tell as well."

"You are going to tell me everything, Danny," said Tim as he set about tearing his shirt into strips. "Bruce would totally take you in if you need a safe place to stay. Especially after you helped me escape."

"And what can you do about it? There's laws that make experimentation on people like me legal."

That made Tim pause in what he was doing, but only for a minute. "If that's true, I happen to be friends with two very good investigative journalists who would love to do a series of articles. They've a good track record of getting unjust laws overturned."

Danny didn't say anything for a moment and Tim looked over at him. It seemed like he was actually contemplating the offer. "Really? I'll want proof before I talk. And I'll need to reach out to some friends for a second opinion."

"Only sensible. Okay, this is as good as I'm gonna get it. I'm going to bandage your leg now."

"Just do it."

Looking at the wound, Tim could see the bullet hadn't passed through Danny's thigh but had seemed to have fallen out. Perhaps when he'd density-shifted them? But then why did their clothes remain intact? He'd have to ask later. Instead, he focused on making a bandage and tourniquet out of the strips of his shirt.

"Okay, that's as good as it's going to get. How high can you fly?"

"Higher than you can breathe."

"I see. Well, fly us up a bit so I can figure out where we are in the city, then I'll give you directions to Leslie's clinic."

"Will do!"

With how well Tim knew the streets of Gotham from the sky, it was the work of moments to get his bearings and fifteen minutes later, they were using the back entrance to Leslie's clinic.

A week later, Wayne Manor had a new resident and Clark Kent and Lois Lane published their first joint article on the Anti-Ecto acts.

-----

I honestly went into this one without a plan, something I usually hate doing. But I like how it turned out! Let me know what y'all think.

I've one more prompt to fill which should happen by the end of the week. Still accepting new ones, but the turn around will be a bit longer I'm afraid.

#dpxdc #kidnapping #being trapped with danny #puts escape on easy mode #if not even easier than that #sam already knew clark and lois by reputation #as soon as danny mentioned their names #she ordered him to accept tim's help #tim's scars made danny more inclined to trust him too #meant he wasn't just some rich kid #and that he had secrets of his own #doesn't take him long to figure out their identities

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kirain · 9 months

Note

Saw your comment on a post about Sound of Freedom and I came here to say.....shame on you. Shame. On. You. Since when is child trafficking a political issue? Since when is calling pedophilia bad a political issue? If you have a problem with this movie then maybe YOU'RE the problem. No better than the big Disney fat cats who tried to suppress this movie and keep it shelved. Or theaters messing with the ac and saying seats are sold out when they're empty. Shame on you! God's children are not for sale!

I wish people would do a little more research on this topic. If Hollywood and the "powers that be" didn't want this movie being seen, it wouldn't have been released in over 3000 theatres countrywide. It's being shown in major and minor locations all across America and Canada, and the vast majority of those locations aren't having any problems.

Case and point, my own mother and her friend went to see it last week and everything was fine. No issues whatsoever and the seats were packed. The movie isn't being "suppressed". This is all a marketing gimmick from the production company Angel Studios, a Christian streaming service. The movie is jam-packed with lies and only serves to glorify Tim Ballard, the man the movie is based on, and Christianity as a whole. I truly wish this wasn't political, but it is. They made it political.

Tim Ballard has provably exaggerated or fabricated many, if not most of his "rescues", and his organisation, Operation Underground Railroad, has been widely criticised by professional anti-sex trafficking organizations (including other Christian-based ones) for years. He has accumulated millions of dollars for his so-called "non-profit" organisation, and he runs several for profit organisations on the side. Most of this money is presumably pocketed by Ballard and his cohorts, as millions is unaccounted for and only a sliver goes to OUR. It's not about "saving children", it's about money and spreading Ballard's religious ideology.

This is compounded by the fact that Ballard, before he left the CIA, was almost always the last officer to arrive on any scene where child sex trafficking was involved, yet he somehow has hundreds of stories where he's singlehandedly rescued children. In fact, the "true story" the film is based on, where Ballard apparently saved a five year old boy—who, by Ballard's own account, ran up to him, hugged him, and begged to be taken away—didn't even happen. According to court receipts from the arrest and trial of Earl Venton Buchanan (the pedophile in possession of the little boy), Ballard arrived at the scene long after the boy was rescued and taken into custody, and he was barely involved. The documents can easily be found online under the San Diego incident reports.

Ballard was also caught lying about saving one particular girl named Liliana, the literal poster child for OUR. As it turns out, Liliana rescued herself by escaping her captors when she was seventeen and being trafficked in New York. Even more egregious, every time Ballard told her story, he would lower her age to garner more sympathy ... as if her being seventeen wasn't sad enough. In one instance, he claimed she was 14. In another, he claimed she was 11. Ballard also exploited Liliana's story as a reason for needing stricter border patrols and a better wall, despite the fact that she was being abused in America. There is no evidence to suggest OUR had anything to do with her rescue.

Ballard and his "organisation" have even ruined entire legitimate rescue operations in other countries and put children at risk, like in the Dominican Republic, where he endangered the lives of 26 girls by playing vigilante, being followed around by a camera crew, and causing a shootout that effectively traumatised the children he used as a prop to lure in buyers. His response to the mishap and rightful criticism by the Dominican police was basically, "Well ... you win some, you lose some."

The children were released without receiving any therapy or rehabilitative care, and Anne Gallagher, the leading global expert on the international law on human trafficking, said that OUR has an "alarming lack of understanding about how sophisticated criminal trafficking networks must be approached and dismantled" and went on to call the work of OUR "arrogant, unethical, and illegal". Those children easily could've been shot and killed. This occurred in 2014, but Ballard still insists that his "rescues" be filmed, and he even pitched it as a reality TV show. His reasoning for this, he says, is to "spread awareness", but we all know it's because he loves the spotlight.

Entire law enforcement agencies have actually cut ties with or even condemned OUR, such as Washington State Law Enforcement, as a result of Ballard's proclivity to conflate child sex trafficking with consensual adult sex work. Ballard and OUR regularly set up sting operations and lambasted the men who showed up for kink play, publicly branding them as pedophiles, even though the men in question were under the impression that they were meeting for sex with consenting, adult women. This led to several lawsuits against OUR, all of which they rightfully lost.

Ballard's means of gathering intelligence is also questionable, as he, by his own admission, sometimes consults psychic mediums for information on missing children and asks where they're being held captive. I genuinely wish I was joking about that.

The main actor in Sound of Freedom, Jim Caviezel, also has ties to the Qanon movement, and Caviezel himself is a hardcore conspiracy theorist. He believes that Donald Trump is "the new Moses" and that "liberals [literally] drink the blood of children". This is ironic, considering Caviezel and Ballard both met Trump several times, yet never pressed him for information regarding Epstein's client list. Moreover, Caviezel and Ballard both donate to the Catholic Church, which funds the largest child sex trafficking ring on the southern border and has a history of rampant sexual abuse of children. Even more insane, Caviezel admitted to watching child porn, to apparently "get in character" for the movie. He claimed that if Ballard had to watch it, it only "made sense" that he'd have to watch it, too. To "motivate" him to fight child trafficking.

...Alright, bud.

Surprise, surprise, both men are also outspokenly anti-LGBTQ+, despite the fact that children/teens in that community are statistically more likely to be trafficked. The majority of child trafficking is not the result of random kidnappings, as the movie would have you believe. The majority of children are actually recruited into sexual exploitation by a family member or friend/boss. The majority of those children are also not generally passed around in Mexico, like this racist, white savior-oriented movie would have you believe, but they actually either stay in or end up in America. America is, in fact, the largest consumer of child porn and child sex slaves this side of the globe (and nearly the largest producer), yet the movie depicts almost every pedophile as Mexican or some other non-white race.

At the end of the movie, Ballard comes on screen and asks people to donate/buy tickets for others, so that the movie can spread awareness. This is why so many seats in certain theatres are empty, despite websites saying the seats are sold out. Whether or not Angel Studios is also shadow purchasing tickets to boost sales can't be proven, obviously, but I wouldn't put it past them. These "conspiracies" have all served to market the movie and boost ticket sales.

As for Disney trying to keep the movie shelved, that's also a lie. Yes, Disney did technically shelve the movie when they bought Fox, since it didn't exactly correspond with its family-friendly brand, but they had no problem with the movie being released under a different studio. The actual reason Sound of Freedom was in "production hell" for five years was because Tim Ballard kept trying to milk donations. Despite the fact that filming wrapped up in 2018, he kept asking for more and more and more. He used people's faith and understandably emotional response to something as wicked as pedophilia to rake in millions. That's what Ballard is really about, money and stardom. In the movie, there's even a post-credit message where Jim Caviezel says the movie was held back to "maximize its distribution and raise awareness about child sex trafficking".

Translation: Ballard greedy.

Ballard himself admitted the accuracy of this movie "isn't important", and that he just wanted to get the movie out to "spread the word". By that, he of course means the Christian word—but why should fighting child sex trafficking be tied to religion? At the end of the day, Sound of Freedom is a vanity project, and it spreads incredibly dangerous misinformation. Stranger still, Ballard left the OUR just prior to the debut of Sound of Freedom, a fact he's neglected to mention in every interview regarding the movie. It's not clear why he left, but it seems that he fled after an internal investigation into the organisation began. That's not too suspicious or anything. My guess is authorities are trying to find out were all that missing money went, and Ballard doesn't want to be there when they figure it out.

By the way, that final line you hit me with; "God's children are not for sale", the line from the movie that Ballard claims a fellow agent whispered to him while on a case, as well as the title of the movie, which another agent supposedly said to Ballard after a giant rescue operation—those were lies, too. No agents ever said that to him. The police reports for those cases, as well as the agents Ballard supposedly quoted, all said he was the last to arrive on the scene and those conversations never happened.

Ballard cannot be trusted and Sound of Freedom is based on a lie. It's a scam. Everything he does is a scam. All he cares about is spreading his ideology, making money, and looking like a superhero. And this is only the tip of the iceberg. Look into his other companies, and into the ex-military soldiers and police officers who left OUR because of how poorly trained their people are when it comes to rescue operations.

Every sane person knows pedophilia and human trafficking is wrong, but giving your money to Qanon-adjacent, right-wing leaning, LGBTQ+-hating, Catholic Church-sympathising, fame-chasing, money-hungry, perpetual liar Tim Ballard isn't going to help.

The best way to help out is learning about the signs of child trafficking. Keep an eye out for any children that might be getting abused. If you suspect something, report it, don't be a silent bystander. Volunteer within your community to make sure the children in your area have food and resources, support LGBTQ+ youth, and watch the other adults around you to ensure they're not acting inappropriately. You can also donate to social programs that create safe spaces for children and even apply for jobs that specialise in these fields. Don't go to see a movie just because it aligns with your religious beliefs, feel sad for a little while, then sit on your ass and let Tim Ballard handle everything.

#sound of freedom #tim ballard #jim caviezel #christianity #child trafficking #propaganda #angel studios #I can't believe you made me defend Disney

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chiefdirector · 4 months

Text

Hostage Taking | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Act One | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19

Content Warning under cut: Episode 3x05. Themes of Racism (Doug Stanton, at the end), bombing and other canon typical plights. Read at own risk.

“So when do you think you’ll be back from court?” (Y/N) asked, walking alongside Harper towards the evidence lockup.

“Eh,” Harper said. There was nothing Harper hated more than court duty, especially when the case was so clear cut that she didn’t need to be there. “Hopefully soon, that way I can enjoy having Nolan on front desk duty for the rest of the day. Let him enjoy the general public”

“Is he really that bad to ride with?” She stopped at the door.

“No, and that's what sucks. He’s too nice, and sometimes I don’t need all that positivity.”

(Y/N) just shook her head as Nyla just winked at her as she entered the evidence room. Turning on her heel, (Y/N) passed Lopez as she wandered back to her desk, trying to figure out what to do with her day. Most of her cases were closed, the Damian Barrett case had all but run dry and Grey had all but forbidden her from working on her own case alone, despite how much she wanted too.

Sitting down, she gathered all of the papers on her desk, stacking them neatly, before organising them alphabetically, and then chronologically. Next on her hit list was the pen pot. Grabbing the container, she tipped them out, testing them one by one on a loose post-it.

She had only just opened the chess on her computer when the radio belonging to the blonde officer who worked opposite her rang out. “Sargent Grey, this is officer Nolan, go to channel nine.”

(Y/N) stifled her laugh as she moved her pawn two spaces, of course it was Nolan she thought. Even in her short time back in the precinct, Nolan’s reputation had been shared with her. Her good humour was cut short as the rest of the conversation rang out through the handset.

Grey replied quickly “Nolan this better be important”

“Sure is buddy” An unknown voice rang out. (Y/N) closed the chess game as she began to listen more intently.

“Who’s this”

The stranger’s voice rang out again. “The guy sitting in your parking lot with an ammonium-nitrate fertiliser bomb.”

Without hesitation, (Y/N) rushed up from her seat and made her was over to where she could see Nyla and Grey looking down at the radio, officers silently surrounding them, all listening to the bomber

As she got closer, she could hear the stranger’s voice again. “I have cameras on every exit. Do you understand me? If anyone leaves, everyone dies”

“I can confirm the cameras, sir.” Nolan’s distant voice chimed in, “Our bomber has a dead man's switch, sir.”

“Okay,” Grey said, voice solemn and serious, “You have my attention. Tell me what i can do for you.”

“Rectify an extreme miscarriage of justice. I demand the immediate release of Donalf Feltt from the Primedale Department of Corrections.”

(Y/N) moved to the computer near her, typing in the given name as Harper moved beside her. His record showed immediately. Donald Feltt, ID no: 4076696, sentenced to life without parole on multiple charges: Possession of an illegal substance, undocumented concealed firearms, animal abuse, drug trafficking, battery, and murder.

Grey tensed his shoulders as he read the screen out loud to the bomber, trying to confirm that they were both on the same page.

“That's him,” The man confirmed, “and it’s not going to be a back-door parole for my boy. Feltt walks out of there today.”

“Back-door parole?” (Y/N) asked, looking up from the screen

“For when you die in prison,” Harper replied. “Our bomber’s done time.”

“Most likely with Feltt,” Grey lifted his radio up again, “All right. That’s a big ask. It’ll take time.” He lowered the radio and looked to Harper, “We need someone on the outside.”

“I’ll call Lopez, she left already.”

Grey nodded his head, raising the radio again, now on the general channel to alert the units, both in and out of the precinct of the tactical lockdown and what to do. Once he was done, he turned to face (Y/N). “You should go down with everyone else to the parking garage, you’ll be safe there.”

“Like Hell I am, now what do you need me to do?”

----------

“It’s morse code.” Grey said, looking at the camera feed pointed towards the brown van, (Y/N) moved to get a dictionary, only to be stopped by the Sargent raising his hand. “S-C-R-L-I”

“He has a scar?”

“On his left eye. Good man, Nolan.”

“So,” (Y/N) said, opening the laptop she had bought over, typing as she spoke. “If we assume he did time with Felt. We know that he is a white male with a scar on his left eye.” Pressing enter, she quickly read the results aloud. “Graham Porter. He did three years at Primedale, a couple of misdemeanours prior. Nothing that screams mad bomber.”

“How does a guy like this get on with a guy like Feltt?”

“Let’s hope Lopez can find out,” Harper said, returning from the parking garage.

----------

“So Graham Porter is in desperate need of money?” Nyla asked as she regrouped with Grey again, this time joined by Chen and both Bradfords.

“So why not demand a ransom?” Grey responded “Why give us a head fake on Feltt”

Chen stepped forward. “Maybe it’s not a head fake. Maybe Feltt’s paying Graham to bust him out of prison.”

“Feltt’s a murderer, not a cash-heavy narcos.” (Y/N) said, looking over to Tim, allowing him to finish her statement off.

“If this Feltt’s gambit is smoke, we’re chasing our tails trying to free him. Meanwhile, an accomplice robs a bank or something.”

Grey considered the next step for a moment. “Contact West and Stanton, have them check out a nearby check cash-in place. I’ll contact the chief to see if we can get more boots on the ground.”

Nyla nodded, going off to make the call, leaving Tim, Lucy and (Y/N). The three stood in silence for a moment before (Y/N) turned to her laptop again.

“What are you doing?” Tim asked, looking over his wife's shoulder.

“Googling him.”

----------

It didn’t take long for Grey and Harper to find their way back to the other three. There wasn’t much luck on either end, apparently everything was “Code Four” with Stanton and West, and the rest of the LAPD was spread thin by having an entire precinct down so that not many more men could be spared.

“We found something.” (Y/N) crossed her arms. “I ran his name through the web. He had a YouFundMe, set up by his girlfriend, Kelsey Adams. I asked Lopez to run her down, there was nobody there, no cell answer either.”

Tim moved to stand near (Y/N), disliking this whole situation. “This whole thing is weird. Kelsey is using an assumed identity. Her social security numbers are fake. No record No picture.”

“According to Lopez, Kelsey and Graham are inseparable. So she is likely involved.”

“But how?” Harer asked, If it's not about money or Feltt…”

They sat in silence, contemplating Nyla’s question. (Y/N) uncrossed her arms, letting her hands fall down and began to play with her ring.

Lucy was the one to break the silence. “What if this is all a distraction meant to pull our focus outside the station, when we should really be looking inside?”

“What kind of woman would be crazy to be inside a building ith her boyfriend parked outside with a truck full of explosives?”

Tim rolled his eyes at Nyla’s question, before sending an incredulous look towards Lucy. The two of them had a silent conversation before taking off towards the parking garage, leaving the three officers with the words “Freegan Frida.”

As the pair left, Grey looked at the two detectives. “What the Hell is a ‘freegan?’”

----------

(Y/N) and Nyla moved through the corridors with their guns raised, silently sweeping each room for Adams. Tim had alerted them of the woman’s presence when she had left the garage, leaving the other’s trapped. Grey had taken one half of the building, whilst the detectives took the other. The two had found nothing until they approached the evidence room, finding the door broken.

On Nyla’s silent command, (Y/N) entered the evidence room, looking around for the suspect whilst she called Grey, alerting him of the situation and that a search was underway. As Harper spoke, (Y/N) moved through the evidence locker, looking down the aisle. It only took moments for her to find Kesey, rummaging through a secure bio-evidence bag.

“Hands up.” she commanded, “Don’t move.”

“Please, I have to find it,” the woman begged.

Harper approached from behind. “Find what?”

“He thinks I’m dead, If they run my prints…”

“Are you trying to destroy evidence?” Harper asked, moving closer to Kelsey.

“No,” Kelsey exclaimed, panic and desperation clear in her voice. “It’s my husband. He’s a loan shark in El Paso. He hurt me. I ran away three years ago, got a new identity, the works. So he would never find me. Then there was a robbery where I work. The cops took a bunch of stuff, things with my prints.”

“So when they run the prints, they will get a hit on the real you.” (Y/N) stated. The tree women stood in silence for a moment before (Y/N) continued speaking. “Look, we will try and help you but you need to get Graham to stand down.”

----------

(Y/N) listened to Grey speak to Graham as he told him to stand-down. That he knew what their plan was, that Kelsey had told him that the bomb was fake. That he was going back to prison for a long time. She also listened in as Graham demanded the S.W.A.T team back off, and when he threatened Nolan’s life if they didn’t.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and that grew at the threat. She hated this whole situation. She hated that it was Nolan that was trapped, she hated how the entire precinct was shut down because of this madman, she hated how there was nothing that she could do to help Nolan. She hated it all.

She only began to feel marginally better when she heard Nolan’s voice ring out on the radio. “Sargent Grey, this is Nolan. One is custody. We’re code four.”

Although, hearing the click ring out afterwards reassured her somewhat.

----------

“Oh God, what happened earlier?” (Y/N) said, curling up on the sofa as Tim grabbed two beers from the fridge before joining her.

“Stanton let Jackson get assaulted. Bastard did nothing.”

“Is Jackson okay?”

“He was taken to the hospital. Bruised and beaten but nothing he can’t recover from. Physically anyway.” Tim moved to wrap his arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders, pulling her into his chest. “Stanton is on administrative leave. Grey took his gun and badge.”

“What happens now?”

“This will be the end of Stanton, I don’t see him coming back from this.”

(Y/N) nodded, processing the information. “We should go see him tomorrow. See how he’s doing, if he needs anything.”

Tim just hummed in agreement, moving to place a kiss on the side of (Y/N)’s head.

Act One | Chapter 19 | Chapter 21

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Tags: @xceafh @kmc1989 @buba424 @salty0cracker @iamasimpingh0e @malindacath @agentred27 @hufflepuffwhore13 @tessalynni @anaferreira-4

Tags are open :)

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford #tim bradford imagine #the rookie #the rookie imagine #chiefdirector #bottom of the river

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kieran-granola · 6 months

Note

for post-kinktober prompts—how do you feel about jaytim & a predator/prey dynamic? the particulars of that are in your hands, especially since you’ve yet to write a fic i didn’t enjoy <3

The sweat dripping from Tim’s hair stings his eyes with salt.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been running, but it’s been a while since he gave up on presentability. His lungs are burning. The ambient noise of the city has been swallowed by the beating of his heart in his ears. Every step he takes turns his body heavier and heavier, and he can tell that it won’t be long before it fails him altogether. He leaps from one building to the next on shaky legs, the taste of iron rich in his mouth—

A hard body collides into him mid-air.

His assailant plucks him out of the sky with an easy strength that reminds him of Kon. Tim tries to use their momentum to roll away when they land — to escape, not to fight, not this time, not when he's so obviously outmatched — but he fails. His head spins as he finds himself pinned to the rooftop on his belly, panting into the gravel with his arms twisted behind his back.

“Gotcha,” the Red Hood hums into his ear, the modulated voice coldly steady.

Tim’s heart quickens impossibly. Fuck. He’s been caught. There’s no way for him to free himself, not without breaking something. He should have left his pride behind and called Batman and Robin for help. He should have run for Cass's patrol route instead of trying to reach his Nest. He should have done anything but try to outrun the Hood on his home turf.

He hears a click and a hiss behind him, then the sound of Jason's helmet hitting the ground. He scrunches his eyes shut on instinct as Jason leans down to lick his cheek. His tongue is warm and wet. By contrast, the air feels freezing when it hits the trail of saliva on Tim's skin.

“You gave me a good chase, little bird," Jason praises. His luminescent eyes give the night an unsettling green glow. "It's going to make taking you all the more enjoyable."

"You can't do this," Tim tries. "You won't get away with it."

Jason laughs. "Yeah? Who's going to stop me?"

"Batman knows where I am. You know that."

Jason ties Tim's wrists together with the ease of practice. He finds the closure of Tim's suit without a hint of hesitation and pulls the zipper down far enough to expose his throat and the curve of one shoulder.

"And where are you? On your territory. Two blocks away from your own bed. Do you think he'll be worried when he sees that your tracker has stopped moving here?"

"There are cameras everywhere."

"Not in the Alley, there aren't."

Jason straddles Tim's thighs, his weight heavy and foreboding. Leather whispers behind Tim's back, then Jason's hands find his throat. They don't linger, but the threat of suffocation is enough for his pulse to spike… right before humiliation blooms in his stomach as he realizes that Jason is collaring him.

"You can't just—You can't just claim me like this. Let me go."

"Birdie, I caught you. I'll do whatever I damn well please."

The collar falls into place, its buckle burningly cool against Tim's nape. Tim's body goes pliant as a wave of submission crashes into him.

So this is it, then.

He lost.

Oh, of course, he could hurt himself. Thrash, bite, fight like a trapped wolf gnawing its own paw off. He could spit and scream, and hope for anyone to stumble on them. But he's so tired. His head goes fuzzy as the last dredges of adrenaline fail him, and he lets the buzz fill him from head to toe.

Jason hums in approval. Then, with a possessive growl, he sinks his teeth into Tim's exposed shoulder.

———

(Later, when they're done, the collar will come off. Jason will help Tim clean himself up, and massage his sore arms. He'll carry him to their shared bed and compensate for chasing him and fucking him to exhaustion by feeding him and holding him safe and sound.

He'll be kind, considerate, and tame. Nothing like the ruthless predator Tim asked him to be.

But Tim will remember the chase. He'll remember the fear, the exhilaration, and the rush of submission. He'll remember being owned, and helpless in all the ways he never dared to want.

And somewhere, deep down, he'll hope that his skin will hold the shape of Jason's teeth and remember it too.)

#jason todd #tim drake #jaytim #predator/prey #or some attempt at it? maybe i should have made it kemonomimi #i don't go here I don't KNOW #kieran writes

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stealingyourbones · 2 years

Note

Danny is taken in by the Batfam for protection (Jazz asked when she realized she can't do it all on her own anymore) and is surprised when for the first time the scientific curiosity he is met with isn't malicious but simply out of a desire to keep him happy and healthy. (And Jazz is relieved that for once she can have a good night sleep knowing her little brother is safe, also that Jason seemed protective enough of him to help her convince Batman to take her baby brother in. Also he was kinda cute)

!!!! Oh man this would be such a great possible H/C or Fluff fic idea. Danny freaking the fuck out because he has had very bad experiences with scientists and experimentation in the past.

Experimentations and tests that are actually non invasive and aren’t considered technical war crimes.

Cass battling Danny’s clones to help with his endurance in the skull, also to practice his focus and fighting techniques

Tim and Bruce doing a bunch of medical testing to see how being part ghost and human has affected him so they can properly create working medication for his human and ghost side.

Lots of fun researching sessions with various batfam members in Ghost Writers book collection for knowledge about possible biology (necrology? Is that a thing? Idk?) stuff for Danny.

Tim having a BLAST trying to see the extent of how he can control computers via possessing them.

Tests on:

How fast he can fly/run

How quickly can he turn intangible and if there are any limitations via just Danny walking through random shit.

If he’s detectable on any form of camera/sensor when he is invisible.

Can he minimize the constant glow around him that’s ever so constant when he’s in ghost form

How intricate can he make his ice sculptures and what’s the extent of his ice abilities though many many trials and tests

If he is eldritch, maybe how fuckin eldritch can he go and can he control that eldritch form to appear gradually or nah

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #dc comics #writing prompts #dp x dc prompt #bones replies #anon

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official-locke-writing · 7 months

Text

I need you guys to understand something.

A slenderverse essay-rant on possession, entities, and the mechanics of Slenderman's game.

I don't say "proxy" in a serious context at all when I am talking about my slenderverse characters or even canon characters.

Proxies don't exist. Proxies are a Creepypasta-esc generalization of what the characters are. It's watered-down. It's a term I use simply because people can understand it and are familiar with it.

Here's the Villains Wiki definition of a proxy:

A Proxy (or Proxies for plural) are a given term for people who are possessed or under the influence of Slender Man [...] destroying their sanity or killing them in the process.

I've completely discarded this concept. Slenderman does not possess people, it creates networks. It enslaves entities to do its bidding, who then impose their unknowably complex and mind-shattering presence upon their victims. It's an invisible war not native to mortal beings in the slightest. It's outside of time and space completely.

Think about it; the inexplicably inhuman nature of HABIT. The Collective entities emit so much radiation that cameras/electronics physically break down the longer they're pointed at one; same with Slenderman itself. A literal Geiger counter was used as a Slenderman detector; anything it touches emits a terrible mind-bending cosmic sickness capable of destroying physical objects, not just people. It's like touching acid. It melts your brain out of your ears and disrupts electromagnetic, electrostatic and electrical waves. It can bend reality itself. It can teleport.

"Masky" and "Hoodie" don't seem to know how to communicate at all in a human-like manner and they completely disregard the identities of Tim and Brian. It's because they never were Tim and Brian. They weren't even people at all. They were things from a place outside of reality. Hoodie's crude mimicry of human communication is a huge red herring and they are both mute entirely in person.

Slenderman's victims are always nutjobs. They're already crazy, the pressure that Slenderman brings down on these select people makes them crack easily. Alex. Evan. Noah. It chooses emotionally and mentally unstable people for a reason; they're easy to terrorize and manipulate. The possession isn't done by Slenderman itself, but by these creatures it controls. No one is under the influence of Slenderman, it just keeps these entities under its thumb through intimidation and fear.

You heard me. These creatures are terrified of Slenderman. Even HABIT, despite its taunts. HABIT hates Slenderman and even acts to avoid it on several occasions. It refers to Slenderman as a "god," even. What devoted proxy hates its master? An angry one that is forced into servitude and acts out in retaliation, completely destroying Slenderman's plans for the EMH crew by doing incredibly outrageous things in an attempt to break out of the loop.

If I had to guess, Slenderman created EMH's iteration loop to imprison HABIT, and its spent hundreds of thousands of loops attempting to get out, which is why it has absolutely no qualms killing and maiming people. Why it seems to be completely calm and casual when reality begins to degrade. Excited, even. It went insane after being in groundhog day for an infinite amount of lifetimes. Though, this is just a theory based off of minimal context.

Hoodie speaks in code and hides in desolate places to avoid being caught aiding the Marble Hornets crew. Masky isn't "friends" with Hoodie at all, they're just both caught up in the same bullshit and Masky feeds on Tim's anger, turning violent at the drop of a dime. Hoodie uses him as a weapon and for protection.

Firebrand broke away from the cult and was met with the wrath of its superiors. The Collective is made of those who are either too scared to leave or genuinely subservient/obedient to Slenderman. Noah felt the influence of the Collective's presence, bringing out his worst in the extreme. The radiation made his psyche crack.

You think Slenderman has a little mansion out in the woods for these guys? They're forced into poverty. They can't keep homes, jobs, or basic necessities. Hoodie had an oil lantern and was camping out in a drainage tunnel. Abandoned buildings in the woods with what food and water they can lift off victims or steal. They aren't allowed to have relationships, kin, or a home.

Chances are, there are many, many more of these entities just swimming around off camera. Keeping all the tiny little pieces running in Slenderman's affairs. Human cults are regarded as insignificant and almost an affront to these creatures. Humans are food for the machine. They can never truly comprehend the end goal of Slenderman or those at its command. They're disposable pawns. HABIT killed many of them in EverymanHYBRID without much ensuing retaliation.

Linking these series together, there is a coherent and rather blatant war happening between these entities and Slenderman. They seem oppressed, sick, batshit, impoverished and angry. Those who attempt to leave are killed or basically sent to Super Hell.

It's not that they're good people. They're all absolutely horrid and malevolent entities, but they want to be able to do what they want. They don't really enjoy being enslaved.

It's not looking great out there for them.

#slenderverse #creepypasta #marble hornets #slenderman #horror #theories #everymanhybrid #tribetwelve #habit emh #emh #noah maxwell #masky #hoodie #mh #tim wright #brian thomas #jay merrick

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 6 months

Text

Have you never heard of such a thing, darling?

There is an abrupt cut to a classic YouTube channel intro. It’s the name ‘The Gotham Files, with Tim Drake’ in a metallic font, bouncing around to royalty-free, terrible dubstep music while fake strobe lights dance in the background. It is impossible to tell whether this is ironic or not. Assumedly yes, though, because then it cuts to a blank title card that seemed to have been ripped right off of a PowerPoint presentation that reads ‘Also Marinette is here’.

(The Timari Buzzfeed Unsolved Au)

Chapter 1: The Mysterious Case of Wayne Manor

A boy sits in a nondescript white room, on a white sofa, in a white shirt and black slacks. This could have all been controlled, of course, however, even the boy himself is not the most colorful – his skin is pale, his hair jet black, and even his eyes are a seemingly lifeless grey. He smiles at the camera, but there’s something unsettling about it. He shows off way too many teeth.

He waves jerkily. “Hello, everyone! I’ve gotten a lot of new subscribers since my last video hunting down the demon known as Poison Ivy –.”

There is an abrupt cut to a new bit of footage, in black and white to signify that it was from the past:

“If you’re a demon then you have to curse me,” the boy is saying from behind a camera.

A seemingly normal woman, though admittedly she is covered in enough dirt to make you wonder if she had just come back from digging up a grave, gives him a blank look. “Why would I do that?”

“You gotta.”

“I’m not going to.”

“Lame.”

The woman’s face drops into the annoyance that had clearly been threatening to appear for a while, and she starts to stand. The boy makes a squeaking noise and immediately runs in the opposite direction.

“– who was not a demon, she was just a regular lady who was really obsessed with poisoning rich people. Which is perfectly understandable and could happen to anyone.”

He nods sagely. There is no reason for this. He simply does. And does it for too long. It gets uncomfortable very quickly.

“But, this does not necessarily mean that ghosts and demons do not exist!”

He smiles.

“Now, in this episode, I am going to solve the mystery of whether Wayne Manor is truly hauhahaha–!”

He breaks character abruptly, bursting into laughter, covering his mouth with his fist in an attempt to smother it. A flush spreads across his cheeks, finally adding much-needed color to the room. “Sorry, I can’t – I can’t do my usual intro with you there.”

A person behind the camera giggles. “Aw, am I distracting you?”

“You were looking at me like you thought I was possessed, of course it was distracting.”

“You looked possessed, I don’t know what to tell you –!”

He laughs at her and makes a spinning motion with his pointer finger. “Oh my god, Editor!Me, just roll the intro here.”

On cue, there is an abrupt cut to a classic YouTube channel intro. It’s the words ‘The Gotham Files, with Tim Drake’ in a metallic font, bouncing around to royalty-free, terrible dubstep music while fake strobe lights dance in the background. It is impossible to tell whether this is ironic or not.

Assumedly yes, though, because then it cuts to a blank title card that seemed to have been ripped right off of a PowerPoint presentation that reads ‘Also Marinette is here’.

When the white screen disappears, the viewers find Tim standing alone in front of a wrought iron fence. The plants at the fence’s feet are overgrown, weaving intricately around the poles and climbing up the sides.

Tim had also climbed up the fence, evidently, seeing as he was still breathing a little heavily. The boy looks more normal now, wearing an old hoodie and jeans and smiling in a way that shows off his dimples. His cheeks have far more color in them now, but that just might be due to overexertion.

“Hey, so, GCPD – I know you watch my videos because Poison Ivy got arrested like a week after I posted – I would like you to know that I’m not actually trespassing. In order to trespass, there have to be people living in the place you’re supposedly trespassing in. Probably. I don’t know the law. But you guys don’t, either, so!”

He flashes a finger gun with the hand not holding the camera and attempts a wink. Unfortunately, Tim is unable to wink, so he just ends up blinking aggressively at a camera lens.

But that’s beside the point! He turns the camera around to point it at what one would, politely, call an abandoned mansion.

Less politely, it would be called a safety hazard. Half of the building looked like it had caved in on itself, graffiti covered the previously pristine white walls, and plants climbed in and out of every window. The back door hangs half off its hinge, and Tim doesn’t even want to imagine what has taken residence in the place since the Wayne family’s unfortunate passing.

“Everyone ready for another day of probably getting tetanus?”

There is no answer. He is talking to a camera.

Said camera speeds through the next few minutes of Tim exploring. Stagnant water and mold, dust bunny families and spiderwebs, a raccoon that Tim runs from immediately, rusting cookware still left out on the counter for a family that would never get to eat it, a moment to linger on Tim when he stubs his toe on a loose floorboard and heaves a deep sigh, a portrait that was peeling out of its frame, a broken grandfather clock, Tim posing in front every graffitied penis he could find, ransacked closets and cabinets…

He stops in the middle of the mansion, smiling widely when the camera is spun back to look at him. “Well, no ghosts yet, but we can’t rule them out. I guess.”

He takes off his backpack and begins rifling through it until he finds his Spirit Box.

“Now, I’m sure that most of you know what this is, but just in case you don’t: a Spirit Box will cycle through local radio frequencies at a rapid speed. The theory is that ghosts can string together these snippets of words to speak or answer questions.”

He shrugs his shoulders.

“Or, at least, that’s what people say. I’ll believe it when I see it. Until then, I’m going with a healthy mix of the ‘lucky coincidences’ and ‘confirmation bias’ theories.”

He flicks the nob to turn it on, and the radio immediately begins to cycle through vague sounds, the box crackling.

Tim shuffles a little, letting the box run as he shrugs off his jacket and sets it down so he can have a clean spot to sit for a while. He props up the camera on his knee and angles it up to show his face as he lifts the Spirit Box to his lips.

“Is anyone there?”

“Ye –!”

Tim looks unperturbed. “You said there’s someone there?”

The box sputters out an indecipherable string of sounds. A fluke, then.

He gives a small hum. “I see, I see.”

There is another moment as the box continues to make sounds. They’re deeper in tone now, but no closer to human language.

“Well,” he says. “If there is anyone in the room with me, I’d like to ask you to show yourself in some way. Possess something nearby, move something, make a sound –.”

The door slams open, and Tim instantly jumps to his feet, the camera catching a terrible view of the underside of his chin for a moment when he hugs it to his chest. Don’t worry, though, dear viewer, for he soon remembers that he is a YouTuber and quickly readjusts, pointing the camera at the door.

There is no one there, but a brilliant light illuminates the door opposite the room they are in.

“Wha…?” Tim says, his voice a whisper, only barely caught by his mic.

There is a person talking just outside the room. They are speaking in tongues.

Or perhaps in French, it is often hard to tell.

Regardless, the captions at the bottom of the video say that it is French and that she is apparently saying a vast quantity of demonetizable words that Editor!Tim could not write out.

The gist, though, is that she is apparently there because of a bet and not happy about it. Hence the many demonetizable words.

After a few seconds, Editor!Tim apparently gives up on censoring individual words, and instead chooses to bleep out the entirety of what she was saying. For the sake of monetization, not because he’s a stickler for rules or anything.

You might think that demonetizable words should be allowed when you are hunting ghosts and demons and the like, and Tim might agree, but he actually likes money, so...

What was the point here?

Oh, right.

Slowly, a girl makes her way into the room, her phone out in front of her like a pitifully tiny shield, the flashlight nearly blinding Tim.

She stares at him for a long few moments. She mumbles something to herself, but even in editing Tim had been unable to decipher it. So, yellow question marks litter the screen.

“Uh… hi,” Tim says, lifting his hand in an awkward wave.

[Ew, an American.]

Tim’s eyebrows shoot up into his hair. [You realize that you’re in America, right? Most people here are going to be Americans.]

Her eyes widen. “You… you speak French?!” she asks in heavily accented English, seeming mortified. Not because she felt bad about insulting him, but instead that she had been caught doing it.

[Obviously.]

Her face reddens, and she tries, unsuccessfully, to hide it with her free hand. “Oh. Sorry.”

“Are you really?”

She seems to consider this for a few moments, before shrugging. “I guess not.”

Tim should probably be offended. He isn’t, though. At least she was honest. Eventually.

She sticks a hand out. “I’m Marinette.”

He shakes it, smiling. “Tim.”

There were a few moments as they looked at each other, unsure what to do.

“I think your radio is broken,” she says finally, pointing at the Spirit Box. It lay on the floor, abandoned, just barely vibrating from the force of its own sounds. “Or, at least, it’s not getting any reception way out here. Keeps saying ‘Hi’.”

Tim frowns. “What time is it?”

“Like…” she looks at her phone. “About seventeen…”

She catches on to his blank stare. She glances behind herself, further into the house, as if considering braving the ghosts.

She is not brave.

She closes the door behind herself, smiling. “Right. American. Five in the afternoon.”

“Oh, that’s because everyone is getting off work and they’re greeting the sudden influx of viewers.”

“I have literally no clue how that correlates.”

“It’s ghosts,” he says, rolling his eyes.

She either does not understand sarcasm or simply does not want to risk it, because her shoulders hike up to her ears and she looks around quickly. “I’m going to kill Alya,” she hisses.

“If you hate ghosts that much, I don’t think that’s in your best interest. Because killing someone would lead to more ghosts, you know,” Tim points out.

Despite the fact that he keeps his tone as gentle as he can while breaking this news to her, she looks absolutely devastated.

Slowly, Tim picks himself up off of the floor, turning off the Spirit Box as he goes. The Spirit Box gives a high whine before sputtering out, but he pays it no mind, so this must not be important. He stuffs it in his bag and heads over to Marinette, slinging an arm over her shoulders and starting to lead her away, out of the room and through the many, winding hallways.

“Know what will calm you down? I’m going to tell you all about the family that once owned this place, and their unfortunate demises.”

“Are you streaming?” she asks, eyeing his camera warily.

“... does the way that I answer this affect whether I’ll die here or not?”

She giggles and does not answer. He does not seem assured by this.

Still, he points the camera at themselves and begins to explain: “The Waynes were a lovely family of philanthropists, and the town lost quite a lot when they were tragically shot after their family outing to the theater. To this day, twenty years after that tragic night, Gotham has yet to recover.”

A few moments of silence swallow them.

Text at the bottom of the screen says that this is not an editing mistake, and instead a choice made to respect the dead. There is also a timestamp where a person can skip to the next bit of ‘content’ if they so wish, and they would go on with their day none the wiser of the fact that Editor!Tim had called them a ‘limp noodle of a person who would not know morality if it walked up, introduced itself, and then punched them in the face’.

But, again, those people would be none the wiser, so…

Tim smiles charmingly at the camera, as if he had not just insulted a large portion of them without their knowledge. “Now their house is a prime hangout spot for dumb teens, such as Marinette and me.”

“I’m not dumb,” she huffs halfheartedly.

“You believe in ghosts.”

“Well, yeah, duh, I’d be stupid not to, seeing as my house is haunted.”

“You’ve seen ghosts?” Tim says, skeptical.

“You don’t see ghosts,” she sniffs, in that tone people use when they are offended by the stupidity they are being presented with. Tim gets this a lot, but never has he ever felt it was so unwarranted. “You just know they’re there. Like when they knock over your cups for no reason.”

Briefly, the image of a cat flickers on the screen. Because that is what she is describing. A cat.

“Okay. Unrelated question, is belief in ghosts common in your culture? Because they won’t treat you if it is.”

She shoots him an annoyed scowl, but there is something amused tugging at the corners of her lips regardless. “You’re the absolute worst.”

He grins. “Glad you think so. I put lots of effort into making people hate me, you know. It’s nice to have my efforts appreciated for once.”

“I wouldn’t say appreciated…”

“No no. I’m appreciated.”

“Okay,” she says easily.

They reach the front doors, and Marinette raises an eyebrow.

“You know, if you wanted me to leave, you could have just told me. I would have left.”

“I couldn’t just leave a woman in need alone,” he says, pressing a hand to his chest.

She looks unimpressed.

“... and, besides, I was pretty much done here, so…” he shrugs. “Figured I’d escort you out.”

She looks at her phone for a moment before shaking her head. “I appreciate it, but I can’t leave for another… twenty-three minutes.”

He thinks this over for a few moments, frowning. He glances back the way they came, as if considering hanging around for longer. And then he decides against it with a tiny shake of his head.

“You know, it’s illegal to be here,” he says.

“You’re here. And filming yourself doing the illegal thing. I think that makes what you’re doing way worse.”

Tim’s eyebrows knit together. “I mean, touche and all, but I was just saying that you could tell your friend that to get out of this.”

“... oh.”

He snorts into his hand. “Oh my god, did you really not realize?”

“Shut up! I hate you!” she whined. “I’ve had a lot on my mind, you know!”

“Yeah. Like cups falling off of tables, apparently.”

She punches him in the shoulder lightly, and he only laughs more openly.

Still, ever the gentleman (even while laughing at her misfortune), he opens the door for her. Still, despite her supposed hatred of him, she rushes through all too eagerly with a murmured thank you.

He only gets a second to follow after her before the door slams shut behind them, so close to hitting Tim in the back that the force of it makes his hair blow in his face.

Marinette throws him behind herself immediately, her hands up in a fighting position as if she intends to fight the ghost for him. Not that it would help, probably, but the thought was still there.

Tim looks a little touched as he rests a hand on her shoulder comfortingly.

“Don’t worry about it, the place is old, and the loss of weight is probably just throwing everything off balance.”

“... is that supposed to make me feel better? Because all I’m hearing is that this building is super unstable.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re outside now, isn’t it?” he says, grinning cheekily.

And, despite herself, she smiles back.

His expression drops immediately as something hits him to make up for the door’s near miss. He groans and falls to his knees in utter devastation. “I left my jacket inside…”

“It’s the ghosts’ jacket now,” she says, patting him on the back in a way that really isn’t as consoling as she seems to think it is.

Tim starts to fake cry.

There is a hard cut. Tim is back on the couch he had been on at the beginning, but his posture is more relaxed this time and his smile is actually normal.

“Well, as usual, there was no ghost to be found. Because they don’t exist.”

A pillow sails across the screen, very intent on hitting him, but he bats it away easily. Because it’s a pillow.

“But maybe the real ghosts are the friends we made along the way!”

Marinette groans off-screen. “Don’t do this to me. You’re going to make me have an existential crisis.”

He hums a little, his eyes gleaming as he leans back, letting himself sink into the plush couch. “So, as usual, there isn’t much to go over…” He smiles. “I guess I can talk about meeting Mari, though. My first thought when meeting Mari was…” He trails off, visibly mulling it over in his mind with pursed lips. “Well, my first thought was that she looked scared and it would probably help her if she had someone to do this with.”

Someone behind the camera coos, not noticing the way his lips begin to tug upwards into a smirk.

“My second thought was ‘The people like it when I have guests on. I can capitalize on this’.”

Marinette makes a sound incomprehensible to human ears and rushes into frame, a new pillow raised. Tim screams.

The scene cuts. Marinette and Tim are sitting on the couch together, now. Their hair is a little messy from the unshown pillow fight. Marinette is lazing across the sofa, her legs thrown over Tim’s lap, so it was safe to assume she had won.

“You want to know what I thought when I first met you?” Marinette wears a slightly sheepish grin. “I thought ‘Oh my god, why is the ghost so tiny? He needs soup.’”

Tim snorts. “No way.”

She nods, trying and failing to keep her expression neutral. She turns to look at the camera dead on. “And, if you guys at home don’t want to be mistaken for skinny little ghosts, then you should hop on over to the website of our sponsor, Hello Fresh!”

Tim rests his arm over the top of the couch, smiling openly. “We’re actually sponsored by Raid: Shadow Legends.”

Marinette snaps her fingers in her best overdramatic ‘awwwww man’ gesture, shaking her head. “God dang it. It was worth a shot.”

“Eh, I’ll still use it as an excuse to do my ad read now.” He turns to grin at the camera, opening his mouth –.

As one, everyone watching leaves the video.

~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2

#maribat #timari #timinettte #timmari #this was supposed to come out on Halloween but shut up #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #red robin #tim drake

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soulmate-game · 9 months

Text

Chapter 6

(Yes, Marinette and Damian disconnected Audio only before they went to her hotel, so no Tikki reveal sorry!)

Prev First Next

—*—*—*—*—*

Back at the Batcave, Robin was the first to change, sit through debrief, and go to sleep. Nobody questioned him, knowing full well his motives. The other vigilantes however, despite being back in their civvies, were not so quick to end the night.

“You all heard that, right?” Jason asked. Oracle, also known as Barbara Gordon, rolled her eyes. She backed up in her wheelchair and turned to face everyone else.

“What, the part where Marinette made you coo when she essentially defended you and said she still thought of you as a good person?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “I mean yeah, that part was pretty nice. But I’m talking about everything she said about Paris,” the man clarified, leaning back in a chair so that the front two legs lifted off the ground. “She was geared and ready to continue listing examples of Akumas. I doubt she even listed half of the ones that were centered around or targeting her. And having to go through all of her classmates becoming villains, even temporarily?” He shook his head. “That kinda shit doesn’t leave anybody unaffected.”

“Especially what she said about the mermaid monster Akuma,” Tim agreed, pulling up a story on the computer. “I’ve pulled up the reports from both the Ladyblog and the AkumaWatch app. They seem to agree on everything, so I think this was back when the Ladyblog was still reliable,” he pulled up a video taken by the girl who ran the Ladyblog, Alya Cesaire. Marinette’s former best friend and current classmate. The commentary was all in French, but Tim had went ahead and added quick English subtitles for everyone. The wonders of having a supercomputer. The video was taken from a high roof, and showed the water flowing so high that it completely covered most buildings. It would have definitely caused enough pressure to break open windows and fill those buildings on the inside too.

“Woah! It looks like they can transform!” The voice of the reporter said in French, pointing to the distance where two blues of red and black hopped onto a building. The girl zoomed in, her phone’s camera just barely able to show an out-of-focus Ladybug and Chat Noir with different patterns to their uniforms and fins. The cat-themed hero managed to pull an entire car, and as they soon sound out, temporary supervillain Syren, out of the water all on his own. “Aqua suits! That’s so cool!”

It was obvious, however, that the girl’s voice shook a bit. She kept the camera purposely pointed as high up as she could while still catching the heroes and the destruction of the possessed item on screen. There were blurred images all across the surface of the water, which the heroes knew to be censored bodies.

“Only a couple thousand out of two million Parisians survived, that’s what Marinette said,” Barbara breathed, eyes wide. “Seeing it like this really makes it all real,” she clenched her jaw. They all continued watching as what was simply dubbed as Ladybug’s Miracle swept through the city in a shockwave o ladybugs, and the water disappeared. They watched as Alya aimed the camera down and caught very alive people popping up in the streets or on top of cars, wherever they had been right before getting carried away by the vicious waves.

Every hero in the Cave saw people of all ages down there, shimmering back to life. From month-old babies to old men and women.

It was both wonderful and horrifying.

After the video ended, the entire cave was silent for a long moment. Jason was the one that spoke up, to no one's surprise.

“What the fuck?” He growled, no longer leaning back in his chair. Both of his fists were clenched. “This has been on the internet for almost three years! How did we not see this before? How did we never know?” He asked, to which nobody had an answer. But the Bat himself had a hand on his chin as he studied the freeze-frame that the video ended on. Chat Noir and Ladybug fist-bumping.

“Maybe,” Bruce said slowly, as if tasting the words. “It’s time one of us visits the Paris branch of Wayne Enterprises. Ladybug and Chat Noir have been protecting the city for almost four years, it’s likely they know something about why the news hasn’t spread,” he mused. “Meanwhile, I will look into the League records. I never heard about a supposed prank call from France, meaning another piece of the puzzle is there.”

“There’s a problem with that though,” Tim pointed out. “Paris is essentially being held emotionally hostage. Anyone we send will have to be extremely capable of pushing down their negative emotions or transforming them into something positive. The last thing Paris’s heroes need is a supervillain with years of combat experience. Besides that, HawkMoth can telepathically communicate with his Akumatized villains. It wouldn’t be a stretch to assume that he can read their minds.”

“So not only would Paris’s heroes have to fight someone much more experienced than them, but our identities would be exposed,” Dick completed the thought, arms crossed. “That rules out Jason or Damian for sure. Which of us would be the most capable of avoiding strong negative emotions?”

When the First Robin looked up, it was to a raised eyebrow from his adoptive father and three fingers pointing straight at him from his brothers and Barbara.

“We can set up a flight for you for the day after tomorrow,” Bruce said with a grin that seemed way too smug for Dick, who was still gaping at everyone in betrayal. “Ask for the time off, okay? I can smooth things over if you need me to.”

“Oh, come on!” Dick threw his hands up. “I can be broody and mean!”

He was thoroughly ignored as everyone left to sleep for the night.

“Guys! You know what, fine, Paris is a gorgeous city. It’ll be like a vacation! Oh my god I just proved them right.”

—*—*—*—*—*

That night in the Mindspace was… well, Marinette’s insomnia reared its head and she entered it around three AM to find a very unamused Robin waiting for her.

“Honestly?” He asked, gesturing to the Tv screen. “You couldn’t have put some of the work off for tomorrow?”

Suddenly Marinette was very glad she didn’t talk to Tikki while working on her dress. The little Kwami had passed right out after the stressful day they both had.

“I have trouble sleeping sometimes,” she admitted shyly, shifting from foot to foot. “Sewing helps me relax. I want to be a fashion designer,” she explained, letting a soft smile overtake her lips. “I’m actually making my own dress for the Wayne charity gala at the end of the month.”

Robin’s eyebrows shot up over his domino mask. Once again, he was in his normal pajamas besides the mask that he donned after entering the mindspace. “Really? That’s pretty ambitious,” he told her, eyes going back to the screen. Then again, the snippets that he saw on the screen looked incredibly well done. Marinette’s face twisted up a bit in apprehension.

“Maybe a little,” she conceded. “But I’ve designed for Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale. Even Gabriel Agreste and Audrey Bourgeois have asked for me to collaborate with them for a few pieces. Jagged and Clara commission me pretty often nowadays, and Jagged is a lot like an uncle to me now. I also design for local newscasters and other minor celebrities around town, and my best friend’s band Kitty Section,” She rambled, getting more passionate as she went. Robin actually found himself pretty impressed. The elder Agreste and Bourgeois both were notoriously hard to please names in the fashion industry, so to gain not just one but both of their attention and respect was a huge accomplishment.

“Perhaps I was incorrect then,” Robin amended. “With a portfolio like that, designing for the Gala is just the next small step up. I will look forward to seeing what you create,” he said honestly. His soulmate blinked, obviously caught off guard, before blushing furiously.

“Oh, uh, um, th-thank you!” She blinked again, the blush fading as she focused on the second meaning behind his words rather than just the flattery. “Wait, you’ll be at the gala?”

Robin had to hold back a smile. “It is a month away. I suspect by then you will have earned my identity. Soulmates tend to move faster than unbonded couples.”

Marinette gaped again. “Well. Uh. Thank you? I think. Wanna spar?”

It was Robin’s turn to be caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

“Do you want to spar?” She repeated, speaking at a normal pace instead of a tongue-twisting one. “Part of the reason it took so long to fall asleep is the adrenaline. It didn’t, uh, completely fade yet. And I’m still a little angry, but not enough to be dangerous in a spar.”

“I know,” Robin soothed, his calm tone a direct contrast to Marinette’s flustered rambling. “I felt the vibration when you were angry, both at GothCorp and on the roof when you punched the wall. You calmed down considerably fast, but the initial anger you felt at the woman lasted quite a while. It was very odd,” he tilted his head. “It left me very on edge. I cannot say I enjoyed it very much, but it was quite effective in getting the message across.”

Marinette laughed, nodding. Her own buzz of warning from Robin earlier had been very brief and low, barely a blip on her radar but enough to be felt. He had most likely just been upset for a moment. Marinette, on the other hand, had been burning up with her own fury.

“So, spar?” She asked again, smiling widely. “Maman says a good spar is one of the best ways to get to know a person,” she coaxed, leaning forward a bit. “Please?”

Robin snorted, standing up and stretching his arms. “You did not need to plead, I was about to accept either way. I could perhaps benefit from a new sparring partner.”

Marinette whooped, going to her half of the room. To her slight surprise, a new pink punching bag hung off to the side along with a few high bars for gymnastics. Taking a second, she turned to see that Robin’s own half of the mental world also had a few new additions. Weights, probably just for the familiarity of it, a few training dummies, and a punching bag of his own.

Neat! The girl thought excitedly, the last vestiges of anger draining away to be replaced by wonder. Soulbonds are so cool!

Shaking her head, she walked around to her sewing station and thought for a second. Her pajamas weren’t exactly a good outfit for a spar.

“Uh, how do we change clothes in here?” She asked, turning her head to look back at her soulmate. He, unsurprisingly, had already figured it out. The teen was now in exercise shorts and a perfectly fitting black tank top.

Marinette’s brain momentarily fizzled out.

Those arms! No, the legs! No, oh Kwami, I can see his abs. Shirts that tight should be illegal! Ohhh He has broad shoulders. Am I dead? I think I’m dead.

“Marinette? Are you listening?” The girl jumped, her object of torment suddenly standing with his arms crossed a few feet away.

“Huh? Oh yeah, totally. Just, uh, zoned out for a second.”

“Yeah,” he said with a raised eyebrow that just screamed disbelief. “I was saying that you simply imagine yourself in the outfit you wish to wear. This world is molded by our minds, after all.”

“Right. Easy. Got it,” Marinette nodded a little too fast, closing her eyes and imagining her usual exercise clothes. Black basketball shorts trimmed in red and a red tank top shone into existence, replacing her pink-and-white polka-dotted pajamas. Her hair, which was down from her taking out her pigtails before bed, was up in a messy bun on the back of her neck er head. Once down, she opened her eyes and gasped in joy. She turned to look at herself in the full length mirror next to her sewing station.

Behind her, she had unknowingly left her soulmate in a situation he was wholly unaccustomed to.

Perhaps I should have expected this, he thought sluggishly, feeling really caught off guard. His mind flashed to the memory of her punch splintering odd a few shards of solid brick. But her arms didn’t look that toned in her blouse earlier. Then again, she was wearing long sleeves, he had to stubbornly keep his eyes respectfully above the hips. He knew if he didn’t, his gaze would linger far too long on her muscular thighs. Turn away. You are being indecent he scolded himself, deciding to retreat to the sparring mat first.

After a second to recover from having caught Robin staring at her in the mirror— well, we ARE soulmates. It would be awkward if the attraction wasn’t mutual— Marinette joined him. Seeing as their bodies were not actually physical at the moment, they could skip stretching. Any hits they took would hurt momentarily to simulate the real world, but no actual damage would be taken.

“Ready?” She asked first, receiving a predatory grin in response.

“Are you?”

They both stood at the ready, their legs braced shoulder width apart and their arms tended but at the ready. To his shock, Marinette moved first.

The petite girl lunged, a very familiar high kick brushing uncomfortably close to Robin’s nose as he side-stepped the strike and attempted to grab her ankle. Marinette pulled her leg back too quickly, though, easily going right back into a defensive stance. Robin took the moment to get in close, aiming rapid punches at Marinette’s chest and torso. The girl proved to be just as flexible as she was strong, however, twisting around the wider strikes and batting away the ones she couldn’t avoid with her open palm. Each blocked punch sent a sharp sting through her hand, letting her know in no uncertain terms that she could not let even a single of his hits land.

The second Marinette saw an opening, she grabbed Robin’s bicep and heaved him over her hip. Instead of hitting the mat hard though, the seasoned vigilante tucked into a roll and popped right back up, leaping straight back at his soulmate. One of her punches glanced off his shoulder, forcing him to quickly recover his footing before he stumbled.

There’s that strength she showed earlier he noted. If that had been a direct hit, she might have dislocated my shoulder.

Robin leapt over Marinette’s head, slamming one knee up towards her back. The smaller teen was able to avoid a direct kit, but Robin’s knee still managed to clip right under her left rib cage. Instantly, she felt herself gasp for air. Mon dieu, that’s ridiculous! She thought, quickly hand-springing back to gain some distance as she caught her breath. My body gets a little sturdier outside the suit the longer I use the Ladybug Miraculous, but if he had hit me straight on I would have been down!

Both teen heroes were already slightly out of breath, staring at each other from opposite sides of the mat. They didn’t notice right away, but they each had the same breathless smile overtaking their face. They jumped back in towards each other at the same time.

Their spar was a flurry of punches and high-kicks, flips and ankle-swipes. They landed hits and got hit. Marinette got hit less often than Robin, purely due to her acrobatics and flexibility, but Robin’s tolerance for punishment was leagues (ha, bad joke) higher than Marinette’s. Even though he took more hits, he was in better shape than she was. Therefore, even though each of their strikes carried roughly the same force, it was clear Marinette was the one slowly losing ground. Marinette didn’t have her indestructible suit or enhanced abilities to help her out, at least not beyond what prolonged use of the Ladybug enhanced, but she was holding her own very well despite it.

It was almost twenty minutes —the mindspace making normal stamina levels irrelevant— before Marinette finally managed to grapple Robin and send them both tumbling onto the mat. They wrestled for a long moment, finding their physical strengths almost matched, before Robin finally managed to wrap his arm around Marinette’s throat and pin her legs with his own.

They were both gasping for breath by that point and, even though she lost, Marinette found herself laughing in glee. Robin’s grip loosened briefly before he completely let go, unwinding himself from her and standing up. He didn’t laugh like she did, but he was grinning widely and let out a few soft chuckles. He extended his hand down to his still-giggling soulmate, who grabbed on and allowed him to help her up.

“That was great!” She gushed. “I mean, sure, it stinks that I lost. But I’ll get you next time!”

“I fear you might not be wrong,” Robin admitted with another soft chuckle. “Not all of that was martial arts,” he said, clearly questioning her fighting style casually. Marinette rubbed the back of her head sheepishly.

“Ah, yeah. I took gymnastics as a kid. And my friend Kagami has been trying to teach me how to fence, but I just end up using those movements in melee instead. I’m okay with a foil, but I’m nowhere near the best. Kagami says I’m a natural, but I think she’s just sparing my feelings. And, uh, the whole parkour thing I mentioned.”

“Right. Parkour,” Robin agreed with a nod that Marinette knew meant he didn’t believe her but wouldn’t push. For now.

Marinette’s lips slowly widened into a devilish grin. “Hey, do you play Ultimate Mecha Strike Five?” She asked slyly, and Robin narrowed his eyes through his mask.

“Why do I feel like agreeing would be a mistake?”

“That’s a yes!” Marinette cackled and dragged Robin over to his couch. “Come on, let’s play!”

Seeing as both of the were asleep and their other senses inaccessible through the Tv, it allowed them to load the game. Surprisingly enough, Robin actually put up a decent fight.

Unsurprisingly, Marinette still won. Five times in a row.

“Alright,” Robin put his controller down, glancing over at an all too smug Marinette, crossing his arms. “Let's recap; I’ve discovered the situation in Paris is bleaker than I thought, you are surprisingly strong for your frame, you are much better of a fighter than you let on, and you have a vengeful streak.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marinette cooed, her hand over her chest as she fluttered her eyelashes with false innocence. Robin just deadpanned at her. “I am completely innocent! An angel! I would never stoop to petty revenge over losing a spar!”

“Uh huh,” Robin said blandly. “Let’s revisit this argument when you decide to be more truthful, ‘Angel’.”

“Anytime, birdboy.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Thankfully, the next few days weren’t as hectic as the first twenty-four hours. Robin did have school and vigilante business to see to, so he and Marinette only met in their Mindspace for the rest of the week. Which wasn’t bad, even on nights when one or the other stayed up so late that they only had three or four hours in the mental world. Somehow, despite their brains remaining constantly active, the magic is the soulbond always left them more refreshed when they awoke than they would normally feel after that amount of sleep. And Marinette had her own things to do with her class, which included a brief (and very therapeutic) two-day visit to Metropolis since it wasn’t far away, to broaden the sights they could see. When they got back, they had one full rest day where they and a buddy could visit anywhere they wanted, provided they stayed within three blocks of the hotel and called to check in with Bustier every two hours.

The class, used to recovering from terrifying circumstances, had almost completely recovered (as much as could be expected, anyway) from their GothCorp nightmare by the time they returned from Metropolis. Lila had quietly thanked Marinette the day after the attempted robbery, but followed the thanks with a threat to never make her look weak again.

So, suffice to say, the liar was back to her usual tricks after the brief reprieve of the Metropolis visit as well. Milder than usual, sure, but still back to normal.

Meanwhile, Richard Grayson had seemingly spontaneously asked for vacation time in order to help his adoptive father out with company business in Paris. He landed in the City of Lights the same day that the Parisians got back into Gotham. He quickly realized that this trip would take more than just a few days. In fact it wasn’t until Friday, exactly one week after Damian had met his Soulmate, that Dick found the ability to track down the Parisian heroes.

Akuma alert sirens rang all around the city, confirming for the experienced hero that the natives had gotten accustomed to the constant havoc. Those who had been around since the beginning of the Akuma terror ran towards shelters with practiced speed.

It was the perfect distraction for Dick to change into Nightwing and take to the rooftops. Upon reaching the Eiffel Tower, the blue clad hero saw a bizarre scene. A male dressed in an aqua colored, snake-themed uniform and a petite female in a red, black, and gold uniform with a spiral down one leg were facing off against…

A… Giant… Cat lady...

Not even a giant half-cat person. She was a legitimate fifteen-foot tall old lady in classic Cat Lady attire. Knitted cat-embroidered shawl, cat-eared knitted beanie, a crochet needle that she was using to hypnotize cats and change their size and species. Her skin was bright orange with shiny silver tiger stripes, and her face had giant black glasses in the shape of a domino mask.

It was really, really weird. She had two twenty-foot panthers and a lion that was half the size of the Eiffel Tower growling at the two heroes who, surprisingly, didn’t look very affected at all by the fever dream they were facing. Smaller house cats were all slinking out of the nearby streets to ominously surround the two heroes, their eyes all glowing bright gold.

“You know, Chat would be making so many puns right now,” The red hero, Ryujo if Dick remembered correctly, mused as the two analyzed their options.

“He would also be making a lot of ‘family shouldn’t fight’ jokes,” the surprisingly zen male replied, flipping up and out of the way onto a nearby roof. “This should be easy, but I will provide backup if you need it.”

“Don’t worry Viperion, I got this,” Ryuko brushed off. “Water dragon!”

The hero turned into water before Nightwing’s eyes, swirling around the square. The water scared off the smaller cats, and the lion recoiled slightly, but it and the panthers lunged anyway, trying to catch the stream of water. The floating river easily avoided every strike, winding around the old lady’s crochet needle when they weren’t looking and snapping it in half.

A purple butterfly, exactly like those Dick had seen in the videos he and the others watched as research and exactly how Marinette had described them, fluttered out of the broken object. A quick flash of yellow darted onto the scene, a bee-themed woman carrying an ornate pot with Chinese engravings on it flew over and trapped the butterfly in the pot.

“There!” She said triumphantly, smiling wide. The crazy cat woman faded away, shrinking down into a cute little, completely normal, old lady with her gray hair in a high bun.

“Oh dear,” she brought a hand to her cheek. “Where am I? What happened?”

Nightwing watched as the heroes comforted the victim, watching as Queen Bee and Viperion left in one direction and Ryuko, whose choker had started beeping, left in another.

He followed the two paired up heroes.

—*—*—*—*—*

#maribat #mlb x dc #ml x dc #dc x mlb #dc x miraculous #damimari #platonic jasonette #damian x marinette #marinette x damian #maribat fic #the hero’s game

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